But A Dream
by Little Cherry Tree
Summary: Even portals can't hold back what fate has pre-destined all along. Buffy "falls" into Middle-earth and finds a Hellmouth that she doesn't have to share.
1. But A Dream

But A Dream

**Title**: But A Dream

**Rating**: PG-13

**Genre**: Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Lord of the Rings Crossover

**Teaser**: This is the reason why Elves should never admit why they're wrong and why Slayers with superpowers should keep their mouths closed.

**Summary**: This is my Secret Santa present for Jesse who requested this pairing specifically. As I was one of the people who received help on collaboration, I chose to repay the said helper by writing a drabble-like fiction for her person, which happened to be our Jess. For some odd reason, my mind came up with this. It is Buffy/Haldir. I wrote it because I had this idea, and this couple was perfect for it.

**Spoilers**: None, really. Takes place eons before the events in The Lord of the Rings. Set post Season 7 in Buffy the Vampire Slayer-era.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own either Lord of the Rings or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. This plot was requested.

**Request**: Jesse requested a nice happy fluffy fiction with Buffy silliness and Elvish seriousness. She didn't care whether or not there was a relationship, but considering I am already writing a Buffy and Legolas fiction, I decided to try my hand at a different elf. More details to be given once December 24, noon rolls around. For details on the challenge (in case you need inspiration of your own), feel free to check out the site within my profile. This is probably the only Buffy/Haldir fiction you'll get for awhile, until I finish what I'm already working on anyway. On the plus-side, two weeks until graduation!

- - - -

**But A Dream**

- - - -

Buffy Summers was not a happy person.

At the moment, she was standing on the edge of the forest surrounded by Elvish guards who had, once again, decided she was something far too fragile to release out into the open fields. Why should they care? It's not as though they actually appreciated the fact that a human woman had dropped down on them from nowhere. She had arrived chasing one of her many demons through the streets of Cleveland. The creature had decidedly opened a portal, and suddenly the familiar streets and rundown buildings of the Ohio city disappeared completely, leaving Buffy standing in the middle of a forest.

One little attack and a deep bite on the arm later, Buffy finally returned to her chase, killing the creature that Willow had been trying to warn her about for days. Buffy had been tracking it, trying to hone in her new tracking abilities.

The only thing they hadn't told her is that it could create temporal portals.

Which left her stuck inside a large forest alone in the darkness, feeling even more sullen. If her situation hadn't been any more dire, she would have started laughing. It was nothing but a dream. She could finally breathe smog-free air. She could finally stop and 'smell the roses' and 'watch the grass grow', as Giles was telling her she had to do before she aged to a point where she was "no fun anymore", which is how Dawn saw it.

Maybe Buffy was a little run-down for her age. Still, turning thirty wasn't completely bad. She hadn't been dead in nearly ten years, so that had to be a positive. The Slayers Academy was well underway, with hundreds of girls training under the watchful leadership of the new Watcher's Council. They really had no need for a parenting Slayer anymore. All they really needed was someone who could actually fight the demons while they learned about their demonic body parts.

So Buffy wasn't a patient person. She'd never had much reason for patience. She saw something evil and she killed it.

That was probably the one reason why she had attacked the Elf as soon as it had sprung upon her. He had come from nowhere, all tall, blonde and mysterious. Aloof, she called him. Needless to say, her first encounter of another human being-like creature in this forest hadn't been pretty. The Elf had come at her from behind, tackling her into the grasses and completely destroying the remains of a once stylish ensemble. That had made her cranky. The worst part is that the Elf didn't come to play alone. He'd brought with him a dozen other Elves who had bows and arrows along with matching arrogant smirks. This made her angry.

And then she decided to strike.

Why, of all places in this bloody universe, did she have to end up in a throng of males with an advanced superiority complex? They were no fun to be around, much less attempt a conversation with. She had barely gotten off two punches before an arrow landed in her arm, stopping her progress. After fixing her patented death glare upon the entire group, she collapsed as the energy from her travels overcame her.

The next few months hadn't been fun. She'd gone through different periods of depression at the realization that she was stuck in this godforsaken place, without a hope in the world. At first she'd been sulky and demanding, especially to the Elf-queen, or whatever she was. Galadriel was her name, and Buffy didn't like her in the beginning. She was far too immaculate to be any type of woman Buffy could like, until she realized that Galadriel carried with her great power and thus responsibility. As someone who had had her destiny for half of her life, Buffy understood what that meant. It also meant a certain degree of questions. Those she could answer. She could show the Elves with their fancy bows the carcass of the creature she'd killed. She could tell them that she had superpowers of her own. She could prove she had these powers by kicking their Elvish bodies three ways from Sunday. Yet, it would not accomplish anything.

Because Buffy Summers could not go home. She would not go home. It was unlikely another creature would suddenly spring up and offer her a chance to return to her shared Hellmouth.

That brought along the second phase of her depression, which was denial and eventual acceptance. She began to see Elves as more than just overly mature, aloof and rather _clean_ individuals. She started to see them as people. Galadriel and her husband, a man that Buffy frequently couldn't place his name, were both kind and compassionate to her. They truly cared about what her role in this world would be. The possibilities were endless. With her skills, namely in tracking and killing foul, evil creatures, she could defend the paradise she'd been wandering around for the past six months. Or, she could go to any other anti-paradise and probably get herself really, really dead because she didn't know what was coming.

For some odd reason, she opted for choice number one. The fact was, they saw her power as an asset. Galadriel saw right through her façade and truly believed that Buffy had these mystical powers. Buffy knew she had them. She didn't want any of the others to know.

Understandably, Buffy denied everything when Galadriel had asked her about them. But just looking into her cerulean eyes, she began to understand that Galadriel wasn't an idiot; she simply had the grace and skill to read minds.

It was a skill Buffy would give anything to have, until she reminded herself of the time she possessed that skill, and her mouth snapped shut.

Wishing in any realm could be a really, really bad thing.

Buffy had finally compromised with the Elvish Queen. She had agreed to go out on patrols with the Elvish scouts to see if she could be of any use in hunting the creatures they constantly defended their realm against. Feeling as though she could finally do something besides wander around aimlessly for _days_ on end, Buffy prepared herself to go.

The only problem was, she was to be under the supervision of Haldir, the Marchwarden of these particular Elves. He'd been the one that found her in the forest a half year before, and he hadn't forgotten the encounter. There was a certain amount of pride the Elves had. His ego had to be bruised by the fact she was both stronger and faster than he had been in their first meeting. Well, she wasn't about to play any nancy-girl for any Elf, considering she was _the_ Slayer and not just some wannabe huntress. She had a voice. It was time she learned to use it again.

The problem was, her intelligence in this world was nil compared to what Willow, Xander, Giles and Dawn could come up with. In other words, Haldir didn't prepare her for what was to come nor did he supply her with any weaponry. Her first encounter with an Orc had been one of amusement. She had a feeling Haldir wanted to show her up by fingering his beautifully-crafted knife as he watched the Slayer pummel the Orc with her bare hands.

He was only disappointed when she didn't get hit. Once. Although her clothing was mucked up from the battle, she wasn't bleeding. With an air of particular aloofness, he led her onward with his guards into a real skirmish. Once again, she fought without a weapon.

She didn't need one.

He had to grudgingly admit that Galadriel had been right about her – she was most entertaining in battle. She had a grace and poise that not many women of the Elf-kind possessed, and it only made her that more endearing, or infuriating, depending on which way he wanted to look at it. As the Elves stood in their neat little rows, she fought off the Orc one by one until there were just bloody carcasses at her feet. Rising, she crossed her arms, turned to him, and smirked.

"Is this all you got, Pretty Boy?"

She had been calling him that for weeks now, ever since they'd departed Caras Galadhon, or as she preferred to call it, the tree city. He was rather amused by the fact that she was so resistant to accepting any part of the Elvish culture. It was offensive, of course, but mostly it amused him. She spoke in a tongue unknown to all of them. And yet she was a refreshing breath of air, a cold breeze after a warm summer.

Now, dressed in a long green tunic stained with black blood, she ambled back to him and moved between him and his brother, snorting impatiently. He just relaxed his grip on his bow and gave the order to return to the forest, as this skirmish was now over.

Once again, the little blonde-haired human woman had shown them up. Not that they couldn't have shown _her_ up, but the prospect of seeing this girl in action was truly appealing. It was better than dirtying their hands with the oily blood of the soiled Orc, anyway.

She, however, was completely against this arrogance.

He had ordered his men to give her privacy so she could clean up a bit. After an hour, though, he started to worry. She was rather independent when it came to the Elves, preferring to hold onto her own culture and mores instead of adopting those of the world that she was now 'stuck' in. She may have defected and gone back into the forest, which, in any case, was a foolish idea. She may be a strong, powerful woman, but there was evil in the forest of Mirkwood that didn't sleep. And if she wasn't careful, she would come upon the Misty Mountains, and those alone weren't passable for any man and especially a woman.

He gave his brothers Rúmil and Orophin into the darkness to search for her and found himself following a familiar path.

He came to a spot where the rock fell away down into a small basin of water, a waterfalls crashing over the glistening rocks above. There, down at the bottom, half-emerged in the water, was the woman. She was singing tunelessly as she rinsed her hair and he found himself watching her despite his reservations. From what he could see, and he could see much for his enhanced eyesight, she was a sight to behold. She had the most beautiful muscle tone that he had ever seen from this distance, and he was still so far away.

However, she also had the enhanced hearing sense and she turned around in the darkness, her arms moving to cover herself up. "Who's there?" she called out into the darkness. "I know it's one of you Pretty Boys, because you're all with the glow-y. Now come out before I come up there and beat you out."

Haldir took a step back, hoping this would be enough to ease her suspicions. The last thing he needed now was another confrontation that he would be on the losing end of. She wasn't in a good temperament, and he decided to leave her be.

After recalling the others, Buffy appeared in their camp less than an hour later, looking miserable and grumpy.

Which was why, the following morning as they once again stood patrol on the edge of the forest, she wasn't in a good mood.

She was certain someone had been spying on her the night before. She didn't think Galadriel would give those kind of orders to any of these… guards. The Marchwarden seemed to be amused with the fact she was uncomfortable around two dozen holier-than-thou Elves. This just made her angrier. Throughout the day, she tried subtle methods of picking fights with the different Elves. The only reason they didn't take the bait, she was later told, was because they didn't speak the Western tongue.

Well, bully for them. It just gave her another reason to not trust these creatures. Why should she? They had taken her back to a place where all anyone ever did was mope around and sing. It was a beautiful city despite that, albeit one she still couldn't pronounce, along with Celeborn, the Lord of the lands.

That, and the simple fact that this was almost too easy for them. Who did they think they were? They acted as though she were far beneath them and expendable enough to send into any extreme circumstance. She was the Slayer, for crying out loud, and the _only_ one in this world. There was no Faith or Kennedy or Rona to replace her if she died. There was only one.

And suddenly, the thought was appealing. She _was the only one_.

She didn't have to share a Hellmouth anymore. She didn't have to share anything, except a camp with an arrogant Elf who thought that spying on her for his own hapless amusement was entertaining. She was going to triple the torture on him. She'd find a way. She always did.

Upon their return to Caras Galadhon, Haldir had much to report. Galadriel and Celeborn stopped to listen as their Marchwarden told them about their Slayer. She was an excellent fighter. She improvised and fought with everything that she could use within grasp, including her own body. He had seen the way she leveled an Orc by throwing herself into his sword and forcing the poor beast to impale himself.

It was then that Buffy's fate was decided. She was brought before Galadriel and Celeborn and they told her that she was more than welcome to join their guard. They still didn't know why she was here, but the mere fact she was seemed like a gift from the Valar. This prompted Buffy to ask questions, and hence her acceptance of this world had finally begun.

The Valar, it turned out, were mystical beings that lived on an island in the far west. The Elves took a ship to this island to dwell there until the end of their days. This was perhaps the reason why Galadriel couldn't answer how old she was. It was because she didn't know. She was timeless.

For a Slayer about to turn thirty, it was something else to hear that an Elf was about to turn ten thousand. Buffy imagined what her life would be like after ten thousand years, but couldn't work out past a hundred. She would have grown bored by then and staked herself.

As the months passed on, Buffy continued to join more parties and went along with the guards on many escorting missions. She was often given as an aide to Haldir's team, because she knew the Western tongue rather well, despite her rather ingratiating habit of fluxing the English language. There were other instances when she went out alone, and she often enjoyed these. The Elves knew enough to give her space and for this she was most grateful.

Buffy didn't know how much time had passed between her arrival and her first real mission. It must have been over a year, considering her watch had stopped working months before. She used to carve days into the bark of the tree she lived in, but had stopped doing that once the Elves became quite defensive about her ruining their precious trees.

They were to escort Lady Galadriel to Rivendell to meet her son-in-law, Lord Elrond. The thought of meeting another Elf was somewhat thrilling, and Buffy happily agreed to go on the mission.

Haldir, as Marchwarden, was obviously in charge of security. It was something he had counseled her in quite often. It was also something she ignored quite frequently.

They set off in late winter and started up the mountains. By then Buffy had started to learn the perils of crossing these hills, and had taken it upon herself to enhance her already visible tracking skills to seek out evil before it could kill anything important.

However, their journey was uneventful. Buffy found herself completely enjoying herself though. For once, she was in the company of another woman and one that didn't intend to fight every last creature just to save face before a few dozen snooty Elves. No, Galadriel was different. She was feminine, but in a completely different way. Buffy wanted to be feminine like that, but dressing in those incandescent gowns was asking a bit too much. And yet, the day before they entered the valley of Imladris, she was given her first opportunity to embrace the Elvish culture.

She decided that after a year and probably several months of resisting such culture, she might as well take what she could get.

But, as she glanced at herself in the soft fabric the color of the inside of a seashell, she realized something else. All she needed was a pair of Vulcan ears and she was as good as one of them. Well, that and stilts. Preferably ones that would allow her to tower over Haldir so she could smirk at him for once.

And then she began to wonder why Haldir was suddenly occupying her thoughts so much as of late. He was her leader, her Marchwarden and her personal trainer all rolled into one. He was the reason why Celeborn was attempting to teach her how to speak in their fluent tongue. And he was also the reason why she was as skilled in tracking as his brothers were, although he wouldn't dare admit her skills had surpassed his own.

Buffy found that she was actually quite anxious to meet these other Elves. During their day's journey through the valley, Buffy got yet another history lesson. Elrond was the husband of Galadriel's late daughter Celebrían. He was one of the Peredhil, or half-Elven. As much as Buffy longed to learn about the world around her, she doubted the fact that Elrond was half-Elven would even help her when fighting the great forces of darkness.

Imladris itself was a paradise. It was very different from the one she'd left behind. This one left her in no doubt that the Elves actually deserved some of the respect that many gave them. She was actually breathless when the great Lord himself came to greet them. He was rather surprised to see a smaller woman in the service of Galadriel, and yet she was as stoic and proud as one of them. She could be a pint-sized Noldor for all he knew. And yet she bowed her head courteously and said, "Mae govannen."

Unfortunately, Elrond mistook this as the simple fact she knew the language and proceeded to speak to her in the Sindarin tongue until Galadriel gently intervened and informed him that she was not of this world, nor did she know much of the Elvish language.

While Galadriel and Elrond discussed whatever they needed to discuss, Buffy began to familiarize herself with her surroundings. She met Erestor and Glorfindel, both advisors to Elrond. She met the twin sons of Elrond, Elrohir and Elladan, both smart asses as far as she was concerned. To their eyes, she was an outsider only granted passage because she was a guard. Whatever. If they wanted a fight, she'd give him one. She was, as Andrew had told her time and time again, a gung-ho kind of gal.

She got her chance quickly enough. Returning from yet another quiet dinner alone to her room, she was attacked from behind by one of the twins, and she couldn't remember for the life of her how to distinguish between the two. All she knew was that he was on her back and under his weight, she fell.

Seeing this as a weakness, the Elf stood up and offered her his hand in apology. She took it before raising her cool gaze to his. His eyes didn't register the simple fact that he had just asked for it. She took him by the hand and with extraordinary strength that no woman should have been able to possess, she managed to fling him the entire length of the corridor. As he spun around, his back foolishly facing her, she took charge by rushing him, snarling. Back and forth they went before she finally gained the upper hand and flipped him over her shoulder. Once he staggered to his feet, she came at him again, both of them bursting through the window on one of the upper floors and falling two stories into the fountain below.

Once again, Buffy had proved why her strength was more than that of one of these exceedingly arrogant Elves.

Haldir, still in the valley on patrol duty, didn't hear much about this fight except that their Slayer had won. Correction: Galadriel had entrusted him to train the woman to fight as they would. So she was technically _his_ Slayer, despite the fact he really never asked for her. He didn't want the responsibility of beholding something so beautifully reckless.

Especially since she had attacked one of the twin sons of Elrond.

After retreating to bathe, her wet dress sloshing all about her, Buffy met for the first time Elrond's daughter, Arwen.

For someone apparently young, she was a few thousand years older than Buffy, which brought her around to thinking about immortality. Once again, she thought she'd have to stake herself if she lived past one hundred, since she would have nothing left to do or see in her era as the first and the original Slayer.

Arwen was kind enough not to laugh when Buffy explained the reason why she was dripping wet and her temperament was that of a warg. The Elvish woman kindly drew her a bath, gave her a replacement gown, and warned her to expect retaliation.

It came while she was sleeping. She had been given guest quarters, her room right above Erestor's. Unfortunately for this advisor, hearing the sounds of a woman screaming and the wild, maniacal laughter of two twin Elves finally exacting their revenge wasn't his plan, especially since he'd sat in on the meetings for the past twelve hours.

The twins, despite the fact their father had warned them on several occasions to behave, had taken it upon themselves to lure rabbits and other small creatures into the room. Once there, they had given the animals a feast… over the sleeping body of their young visiting dignitary.

Needless to say, she wasn't amused.

"I didn't sign on to be treated as some fast food dispenser!" she growled, flicking lettuce from her hair and fixing a harsh glare on both twins.

"All humans love the little animals," Elladan said, arching one eyebrow in amusement of one very pissed off Slayer.

"And they certainly seem to like you," Elrohir snickered as a small sheep came forward and attempted to gnaw on her hand, still coated with honey.

It was then she started screaming and throwing things, including her bed, at the wayward twins who quickly muttered an apology and escaped before Erestor arrived, demanding to know why she was making such sound in the middle of the night.

By the time morning came, Buffy had begun to realize something. For some odd reason, this was her new reality. Dealing with Elves had become a way of life. Sure, they were arrogant little bastards when they wanted to be. And yet they had their endearing qualities. For some odd reason, the twins reminded her so dearly of Andrew. She would give anything to see him and then strangle him after he'd told her the creature she'd been tracking before she'd arrived here had no special powers.

The twins were rather cautious around her, but she wasn't going to retaliate after their stunt the previous night. Once they realized she had forgiven them, they became a lot more civil. They even offered her a weapon, her first weapon, in Rivendell. They also offered her some of the roast bunnies that had been dining on her bare skin.

She declined respectfully. She wasn't about to turn down two potential friends, and she had the idea that living with these two would be living a vastly unexpected life. Everything about them was spontaneous, despite the fact they were Elves. They just complemented her power so perfectly with their wry humor and their wicked little minds. She wasn't about to admit it, though.

After a week of being in the valley, Buffy began to realize she missed doing patrols. That night, she went to Galadriel and told the Lady of the Wood she was going to find the Marchwarden. After departing, she went out to search for the blonde Elf, finding him at last using her tracking skills. She had developed a keen approach to tracking him – his pheromones. How odd was that, she wondered darkly. She was attracted to this Elf's scent!

And it led her right to the spot where he was bathing.

Well, wasn't this a role reversal? Had it only been months before that he could have been spying on _her_? How would he feel if he knew she was standing above him, taking in every single inch of that ethereal Elvish skin and just waiting until the right moment where she could see more. All she could see now was his back, and well-crafted as it was, her eyes were drifting to below the surface of the water. A familiar longing claimed her and she found herself pulling back into the darkness as a single, impulsive thought came to her head.

Reckless, she forced her mind to say. It was far too reckless.

And yet it had been years since she'd been with any man. She'd preferred to be alone after Spike's death and subsequent resurrection. The Immortal had been a fantastic fling for a small amount of time, but nothing could take away the ache she always got when she saw someone she'd developed a liking to in an intense situation.

Bathing in the nude in a river at sunset qualified as such.

It just left so much more for the mind to be desired. And she felt desire flowing through her, ebbing her very being. She was being magnetically drawn towards the water and unless she ran away now, she would soon reach the point of no return and risk everything for her heart, the cold, callous remains of it.

She found her fingers toying with her tunic before she pulled her hand away, ashamed. Was she just some common woman seeing something she wanted but couldn't have, yet was willing to risk everything to get it?

No. She was stronger than that. She was a Slayer.

But she was also alone. And if she took this risk with her heart or her lust, whichever was controlling her movements, she wouldn't have to be alone anymore.

Had she not known him for over a year now? Had she not been there fighting beside him (or, in many cases, fighting in front of him because he wanted to watch rather than actually fight)? Had she actually just admitted to herself that she actually liked this Elf, despite the fact he had a huge superiority complex and could be quite brutally honest sometimes?

She didn't care anymore. Rules and morals be damned. She'd been trapped in this land long enough to understand the difference between right and wrong. And she also knew that wanting, taking and having were common words in the Slayer vocabulary, as Faith had just spent the past half-decade teaching her.

It was time to stop trusting her power and start listening to her heart again, no matter how many times it was broken. No matter how many times it had been played. It was time to realize that this wasn't her world anymore, and she had to take what she actually wanted instead of risking it all on the next best thing.

She stepped out from the bushes again to observe. The sky was turning a brilliant shade of scarlet and melon. She hid herself the best that she could, but she could figure that he knew she was there, watching him. Damn the Elves and their pride and arrogance, she thought bitterly.

And yet he didn't try to hide himself as he continued to splash around the water playfully. Buffy half-expected some other Elvish maiden to come to him, yet none did. As she watched him wade to the shore where his things were, she made her move. Bounding down the rocks and making absolutely no noise, she soon reached the spot where his clothing was kept and just before he could reach for it, she tugged it from his grasp.

He blinked up at her, water droplets falling from his face and glistening down his chest and his arms. Buffy felt her breath draw flat as she took a step out of his reach, trying in vain to force a smirk on her face. She had to keep it playful or it was going to kill her. "Missing something?" she asked quirkily.

"My tunic, for one," he said dryly, backing away in the water as it came up to his chest. "Or perhaps you wish to keep my things safe for me."

Buffy stared at the heap in her arms before eyeing the water. Turning back to him, he saw the challenge in her eyes.

"You would dare not," he said softly.

No, she wouldn't, she thought. She wasn't that cruel. He hadn't really done anything to her except force her to fight an enemy she knew nothing about alone. With a resigned sigh, she set the clothes aside. "I won't," she claimed. "But I'm going to make you come up here and get them."

"You would dare challenge me?" he asked, glaring at her.

Was he not astounding gorgeous when giving her that really horrifying look that was supposed to make her tremble? She trembled, all right, but in all of the wrong places.

She gave him a playful pout as she approached the water. "I just figured you could use some excitement in your life. Guard duty must be extraordinarily boring."

His gaze changed instantly from one of anger to one of enraptured delight. At last his Slayer was opening up to his ways, he thought, as he moved closer to her. "Perhaps," he said coolly. "You would best close yourself off against such thoughts."

Not a chance, she figured, watching as he came closer yet. Her eyes widened when she saw her own stooped body reflected in his cool blue gaze. "I don't think that's happening," she said, her voice dropping.

"Despite your reservations, I would not hasten to hurt you," he said, finally coming to a stop at the rock she was perched upon.

The fact that this nude Elf was so alarmingly close brought a sense of nothing to her brain. As long as she didn't think, she wouldn't have to feel.

It wasn't his plan. Bringing his rather astonishing arm strength down upon the rock, it pitched her head-first into the frigid water.

She gasped as she surfaced, turning with accusatory eyes to the Elf smirking in her direction. "You little…" she growled. Naked or not, no one would get away with that. Hell, not even Dawn could get away with something like that without a good and proper pummeling.

But she forgot to account for the fact that despite her anger, he was still naked. And now that she was well within his grasp, she started pounding her fists rather roughly against his shoulders. As he reached out to grab her, she darted away, the heavy material of her dress dragging her downwards. In order for it to be a remotely fair fight, she was going to have to strip.

Fat chance, she thought dryly. Her fingers, numb with cold, were fumbling with the ties in the front, and soon the heavier drape fell away, leaving nothing but a slip and the rest of her dignity.

"I believe this is what you asked for," he said calmly, enjoying the way she kept growling and making those hideous gestures with her hands. "After all, was it not you observing me?"

"I believe you started it, Pretty Boy," she snapped, lunging for him. With his own reflexes, he easily darted away, yet she turned, snarling to face him again. "Weren't you the one who started with the spying?"

How she figured it out, he wouldn't know.

"I could pick you up from a hundred yards away," she said, mocking his intelligence now. "It's not like you're that hard to figure out, madam Marchwarden."

This time, his attack was direct. As his arms went around her, she gasped. It wasn't from the mere fact that he had jumped first as it was the fact his body was pressed against hers. She slowly raised her stunned gaze to meet his inquisitive eyes.

"Don't you know…" she whispered. "This isn't exactly the kind of thing I—"

She was cut off as his lips found hers, his arms pulling her even tighter against him. After one blissful moment, she pushed him away, and his body moved rather gracefully through the water.

For a moment, they stared at one another. She didn't know what to think. Even in this cold water, his body had radiated heat, spreading warmth to her body and to her soul.

It took them only seconds before they were locked back in a tight embrace. His lips trailed a ring of fire down her bare neck and onto her shoulders. Her body clung to his, drawing the warmth only he could provide. Her hands down his muscular back and to his hips, holding him to her as they kissed.

The moon had just started to rise when Buffy sat up. She had been lying in the grass, wrapped in the remains of her Marchwarden's cloak. He was her… oh, no. What had she done? What had they done? It was still in her mind, the forceful pushing and rolling, the physical delight of it all. All that mattered was the fact his arms were around her and his eyes, for once, were on her as a woman, and not as a Slayer.

She rose and quickly found her own clothing, still rather wet. Dressing, she threw his cloak over his slumbering figure, still resting. She didn't know what to say. She really didn't know what to expect. What if it had all been but a dream?

Rivendell had never looked more welcome. The sooner she got back to this paradise, the sooner she could leave her guilt behind. Yet as she bathed in hot, foaming water, she felt her sobs starting to come up. For once, she had lost herself in a pure moment of happiness. It had beyond anything she was looking for in this world.

But she was here forever now. She had been asked by these Elves to stay. It couldn't hurt for her to actually fall in _love_ with one, could it?

As she rinsed her hair, she choked out soapy water she'd accidentally taken in. Love? There was love now? It wasn't just the feeling of two bodies together in some rather interesting positions. No, it was beyond that now. She hadn't been looking for it. Had it just found her so suddenly?

Rising, she made her way to her guest room, thankfully restored after the twins' antics the week before. Lying on her bed, she stared out the window. She longed to know what the Elf was thinking, once again wishing she had the capacity to read minds, but for the moment was glad when sleep finally overtook her.

One week later, Galadriel approached the Slayer to inform her that they would be returning to Caras Galadhon. Buffy was happy to hear about this; she had been avoiding the Marchwarden and his two openly curious siblings for the past seven days, not an easy matter.

Galadriel hesitated for a moment before finally asking the Slayer whether or not she was truly happy.

Buffy couldn't answer her. Was she happy? Or was she just… existing in a place where she didn't know her place? She knew how to fight, but did she have to fight with the Elves?

Galadriel openly told her that it wasn't where a Slayer could be needed. There were distant wars happening, in the realm of Gondor to the south, and even the Shire could use protection. The Rangers could use another in their ranks and despite the fact Buffy was a woman, she was skilled in tracking and fighting and could be a useful asset to them.

Jumping at the chance to leave her heart behind, Buffy told Galadriel she could try it. The thought of leaving her heart behind didn't do enough justice. The Marchwarden came into the valley and found her sitting on the edge of a bridge, staring at the amazing flowering trees before her.

"I have heard you are leaving our ranks," he said in his usual calm tone.

"That's right," Buffy replied.

"Are you certain this is wise?" he asked her.

"I don't know," Buffy answered honestly. "I just go where I'm needed. And they happen to need me out there. It's not like I'll be gone forever."

"There is always the chance you would never come back," Haldir said, and for the first time, there was an echo of an accusing hint in his tone.

"Deal with it," she said coolly, hopping down from her comfortable spot. "I do. I deal with it all the time."

Before she could move past him, he took her arm. "Was this your method of 'dealing' when you came to me that night?"

"That was a mistake," she murmured, glancing up at him. "That should never have happened. I'm really sorry, but I don't know what I was thinking."

"Perhaps not with your mind, but with your heart," he said quietly, his cerulean eyes boring into hers. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"I… I can't," Buffy said, attempting to pull away, but he'd trapped her between the bridge and himself, offering no escape. "I'm not going to do this again… I can't risk everything I am for just… you're going to live forever. I come with an expiration date that's pretty damn soon. I don't want to sound ungrateful, because you've been wonderful to me…"

He gently reached out and touched her face. She was taken aback by the humble feel of his skin against hers. He could be ever so gentle when the time called for it. "I do not wish for you to run," he said quietly. "But if this is how you are and how you remain, I am not one to judge."

"Don't," she said, pushing his hand away. "Don't patronize me, Haldir. What we have… what we had… it was but a dream."

He released her and allowed her to go then, staring after her before retreating to his own camp.

Buffy watched the party of Elves leave with a pensive air of sadness. For the past year and then some, Galadriel had taken her under her wing. She had nurtured the Slayer into a presentable young woman who could cope with the different races of beings in this world. She understood now.

And yet her heart was still cold.

On her first night away from her Elvish entourage, Buffy found herself welcoming the company of the young Arwen. She found Buffy sitting on one of the many fountains, staring morosely out into the distance.

"Your heart troubles you," Arwen said by way of greeting as she sat down next to the Slayer.

Buffy gave her a tired smile. "Something like that."

She didn't want to talk about her problems to a complete stranger, but Arwen seemed like she knew what Buffy was feeling. Before she could stop herself, she was talking about her mistakes, bitterly saying that she actually wanted something out of this Elf, yet she understood that she was far too afraid to take that risk. It was too much for her to take, knowing he would look so young and pretty until he died thousands of years in the future while Buffy would be forced to die a withered old woman a hell of a lot sooner than that.

"I'm just me, mortal Buffy," she said with a heavy sigh, finishing her story.

Arwen had been thoughtfully silent during the entire tale, not interrupting once. Now, she surveyed the younger woman and offered her own source of comfort. "You do not yet know the circumstances of your own arrival," she said quietly. "You may have many more years than you believe. You have no reason to fear my kind. We will not hurt you nor do we take risks without our own hearts in vain. Do not mistake your feelings, for I have seen them grow. You have known him for more than a year and yet your resistance to him has grown. You fear much, Dagnir. I fear you will lose what you have gained."

"It doesn't matter," Buffy said bitterly as she stood up. "They always leave in the end."

Arwen watched the young woman sweep away, feeling a slight bit of pity for her. And yet she had heard her father speak of a task this woman could do. Her own betrothed would be of great assistance, if only she could reach him in time.

Buffy spent the next few months enjoying the summertime in Imladris. Elrond had taken over where Galadriel had left off, watching as the young Slayer was trained in both weapons and in the art of acting like an Elf. She wasn't an Elf and despite her protests, Erestor seemed to enjoy tutoring her. She had a brilliant mind, even if she was resilient.

Three months soon passed since her bitter parting with the Marchwarden of Lórien. On the very day, a single man rode into the valley and approached the gates. He was young yet proud in stature and Buffy felt her breath catch as she felt his gaze meet hers.

This visitor was introduced to her as Strider. He was a Ranger from the north and was going to take her into his own custody for a few months or years, or however long she wanted.

It was a different life, she found out soon enough.

For one, they were often riding on horseback, which was rather unusual. Secondly, they didn't force her to fight for their own amusement. They fought by her side and she found herself actually enjoying that. Thirdly, they were all handsome and rather eligible young men, not Elves. And four, she wasn't going to let a single one of them break her heart.

Because, as much as she tried to deny it, her heart already belonged to someone else.

It wasn't like these men weren't trying to court her. They tried. Some actually had clever methods of wooing her. And yet she brushed them all aside, something Strider noticed and finally called her on one year after she'd first ridden out with him.

"We have a matter to discuss," he said one night, dropping down next to her blanket. She stared up at him, her long blonde hair falling past her shoulders as she worked to braid it carefully. Unfortunately, one fat braid did little for her appearances, yet it was the easiest to fight in. But her growing sense of nostalgia had caught up with her and she was braiding her hair recently in the same way Glorfindel had shown her.

"We do?" she asked curiously, setting her hands down. Strider took in the two narrow braids moving across the crown of her head before they were secured by a tiny silver pin in the back.

"We do," he confirmed, dropping down next to her. "Many of these men are eligible men, worthy of any woman's love, especially one of their own," he said, watching her face for a reaction. He didn't get what he was hoping for. Buffy had closed herself off often enough to prove she could be as cold and stoic as he could. "Yet when these men offer themselves in courtship, you deny them this privilege. Any man would be lucky enough to claim your heart, but there is only one reason to deny many claims to it."

She glanced down, realizing she was stabbing the ground repeatedly with her hunting knife. "Yeah," she said, chuckling hoarsely. "How about we not play the let's-talk-about-Buffy's-love-life game," she added darkly. "I've had about enough of heartbreak in my life to last me… one of those immortal lifetimes."

He realized her movements and reached out to steady her hand. "There is no need to fear your heart."

"Yes, there is," she said in a tiny voice, not trusting herself to look at him. "You have no idea what it's been like for me. I'm so young, yet in my world, my clock is running out. The only people I have ever loved left me so easily to pick up the pieces. I'm not going to risk that again. I don't have time in my life to worry about courting this and offering that. I'm happy as me… and for now…" Her own voice belied her strong words and she blinked as she looked away. "Can we just not talk about this?"

"Of course," he said, glancing down at her, compassion flashing in his gaze. "I, too, know the love of someone who may never return it."

She looked up slightly. And then she gave him a bittersweet smile. "I think he returned it," she said softly. "I just didn't want it."

"It may not yet be too late to correct this error, lady," he said softly.

"It doesn't matter anymore," Buffy said, lifting her knife and flinging it into the log before her. "It's not like I really exist here, is it?"

"You do exist," he said forcefully, grasping her shoulder. "You have been an essential part of my team and for this, we could not be more grateful!"

"Thanks," she said, giving him an abashed smile. "I think I'll stick to Slaying. I couldn't hold a relationship and my destiny in my world, and I don't think I could do it here in yours."

He rose and left, giving her respective privacy.

And yet, as she sat down, she couldn't help berating herself for being the liar she was.

The seasons continued to pass as their errands shifted, changing from north to south within weeks. As the years continued to pass, Buffy began to realize that she hadn't aged much at all. In fact, she looked the same as she had when she'd first arrived. It was a startling revelation and it was enough to send her into tears. For some odd reason, she had been given a rare gift of youth. She didn't feel thirty five, much less forty. As the fights continued, her heart continued to wane away, and yet as the offers still came, she delicately turned them down. She was claimed already. She had been claimed years ago.

And yet the irony that she hadn't aged caught up with her one winter morning in the high arches of the Misty Mountains. Glancing at her pale face in the small remainder of the hand mirror she had jumped into this world with, she stared at her face. It was unlined, and yet her eyes burned with a brightness she knew had been encountered from years of war and trials. She didn't understand her youth, but she intended to find out. She couldn't just let this sit, especially when her age meant much to her.

It was time to put her pride aside. She was going to have to return to her tree city and ask Galadriel about her agelessness.

After telling Strider what she wanted to do, he allowed her to go, feeling that as long as she did this, she may yet confront whatever fears were blocking her from happiness.

Buffy rode into Lórien on the first day of spring. She half expected the Marchwarden to approach her, but the ride was silent all the way through the edge of the forest. In fact, by the time she reached the guards, she noticed that they were unfamiliar. Had things changed this much in the years she'd spent away from Lothlórien? Things were unstable in this world, this she knew. She had fought battles, sometimes twice a day. There were days that she didn't sleep or rest because their mission was far more important than the thought of sleeping. It was a heartbreaking world, but it was one she was deeply entrenched in, by her will or not.

"Daro," said the figure, calling a halt whilst glancing at the single lady roaming through the trees looking as though she were on a deep-set mission. She was wearing her hair in a single braid, along with the chain-mail armor and a black cloak. Her belt contained her vast assortment of weapons, from her Elven-crafted sword, her gift from the sons of Elrond, and her Westernesse blade, a gift from the Rangers she had served for the past near-decade.

"Mae govannen," she said quietly, bowing her head in respect. Obviously these were guards she had never come across before, because she was well known through the guard she had served with. She had to be, considering she was a good head, sometimes two, shorter than the tall Elves.

They exchanged a glance over the brows of their bows, but she seemed unconcerned that she was facing eight guards, all of them willing to kill her should the order be given. In fact, she looked almost interested in the fact that since she'd been around, the bows had undergone an upgrade.

"Man le?" one of them asked, staring down at her.

But she'd put up with enough of the arrogant Elf-isms to know that the best she could do was ignore him. "I'm Buffy," she said, staring him down in the same cool manner. Realizing they probably didn't understand her language, she forced her mind to reverberate the long hours of Elvish learning Elrond had put her through. "Buffy i eneth nín."

They seemed to understand that as they exchanged another look. Feeling even more impatient, she pushed forward. They didn't back down their defenses.

"Mas thelich baded?" the head guard asked, asking where she was intending to go.

"Caras Galadhon," she replied. "I have old business with Galadriel there." Seeing their arrogant yet blank eyes, she cursed under her breath. "Hanioch nin?" she asked impatiently, wondering if they understood her or not.

Apparently not, because the head guard gave the slightest shake of his head. This was next to impossible. She rarely used the tongue she'd spoken quite fluently in Imladris, but being forced to regurgitate a language dead to her for a decade was torture. Using her last ditch effort, she put her hands on her hips and said, in a slow voice. "Galadriel…" Mimicking walking with two fingers, she pointed to the woods behind them. "Must speak with her." She mimicked projecting her voice, which oddly enough looked as though she were really trying to regurgitate. They were looking slightly less suspicious now, and two guards even held down their bows. "It is important. I don't have much time." Here she pointed up at the sky, and gestured towards the sun. "Please… err… I know this word!" Her frustration was mounting to the point where she was actually tempted to take them all on. Finally, she held up her hands and lifted sad, beleaguered eyes to the guards.

"Estelio nin," she finally said. It was all she could think of to say… trust me.

The lead guard dropped his bow arm and regarded her calmly for a moment before issuing the order for the others to do the same. "Tolo," he said, and she followed.

He led her to the tree city, and she gazed at her first home warmly. The sights and scents were returning to her now, bringing with them lasting memories. She was quite relieved to be back here, and that was the honest truth. She was quite uncomfortable with the nomadic lifestyle and since she'd been here longer than ten years now, the better part of her wanted one home. Was it too much to ask?

She smiled when she saw the figures approaching her. They were familiar to her, with their own dark hair and their stormy-sea colored eyes full of nonchalance.

At least they could speak English.

"Where are you going?" one of them asked her.

"I need to see Galadriel," Buffy said.

"Allow her passage," the second said, stepping aside. Buffy took the stairs alone, finally coming to a rest where the Lady dwelled. When she turned, there was no surprise in her eyes. In fact, it looked as though she'd been expecting the one person who'd been gone for nearly a decade.

"Mae govannen," she said softly, stepping forward. "Why have you come, Dagnir?"

"I haven't aged a day since I got here," Buffy said, plowing right into her story. "Would you care to explain? I know you know what's going on, and I'm not buying the whole 'this place is an eternal fountain of youth'."

Galadriel didn't answer right away. She walked over and took Buffy's hands, holding them in her own. "You carry with you a precious gift," she said, at last withdrawing her own touch. "The life of the Eldar is strong within you."

The only thing Buffy could think of was Star Wars and the force. So, she had the force, whatever it was? If so, how did she come to get it?

"What?" was all she could say.

Galadriel regarded her for a moment. "When you came before us, I noticed that you had a bonding to this Earth."

Willow's phrase from well over twenty years ago came back to her: _I took you out of this Earth, and now the Earth wants you back_.

It was the only reasonable explanation.

"What does this mean though?" she asked impatiently. "What sort of bonding do I have to the Earth? What is this Eldar?"

"Your bond with the Earth has given you a mighty gift," Galadriel replied in her soft, calm tone. "The Eldar is the name a Vala gave us for all of my kind, all of Elf-kind."

"Oh," Buffy said, thinking about this for just one moment, before her brain clicked and realization hit her like a semi-truck. "You mean I'm… becoming one of you?"

"Nay," Galadriel said, quietly examining the young woman before her. "But this does offer the gift of a longer life, although by now you must have noticed that your age means little here. Your strength surpasses even the brightest and boldest of my kind. I have heard many tales and see much in my time." A sad smile came to her face as she met the soft jade eyes of the woman before her. "This is what you sought, is it not?"

"I don't know," Buffy said, feeling angry now. She had finally gotten the long life she had asked for. But the prospect of spending potentially hundreds of years fighting wars and battles seemed… empty. "I guess I already knew what was coming. Something happened to me. Something I can't explain."

"You will know soon," Galadriel assured her. "Tolo, mado go nin," she said, inviting Buffy to dine with her.

The food, as always, was fantastic. She enjoyed the company as much, especially when Celeborn entered. He, too, seemed unsurprised to find the Slayer in their city, and welcomed her as warmly as he had the first time he'd met her.

Her heart felt considerably lighter as she returned to her own talan, given to her when she'd first arrived. It had been empty for years, yet she smiled at the memory of her storming about, throwing things and breaking whatever was in sight after a particularly brutal day. Sighing wistfully, she dropped onto her bed, her gaze falling to her trunk.

She was still wearing the clothes that qualified her for G.I. Jane. What she wanted now was something much more feminine, and she knew she had these things. She changed into her long pale green sheath and admired herself from every angle she could see. The dress really did fit her well, and they exposed her bare, toned arms, despite the lack of any color on them anymore. The gown made her feel pretty and after getting the brush-off from the one Elf she actually wanted to see, she was willing to go the distance to make herself feel lovely again.

After a full night's rest, she awoke to a sung conversation from below. She sighed contentedly as she listened. She didn't understand the words or the lyrics, but they were enchanting nevertheless. It was so much more peaceful than Strider's constant, "Get up! We must move, lady! Move!"

Now that she was awake, however, she had a mission to fulfill and an Elf to throttle. She returned to where the guards gathered, yet found none she knew. And then she found out why.

There was yet another war occurring, one she didn't know about. Alarmed at the thought he had gone off with the rest of the guards to protect Lórien, she made to go, not really caring how reckless this decision was. She no longer cared about anything except finding her brethren and making certain they returned to the tree city alive. No wonder the guards didn't know her; they were newbies.

And yet her job was never easy. In a world that had been without a vampire Slayer, they certainly seemed to need one nowadays just to get people out of trouble. Grumbling, she fought her way back to her talan and was soon dressed in her full Ranger armor. Pulling on her belt, she armed herself, taking particular care of each individual weapon. They were, after all, her most prized possessions of the world.

Buffy sighed as she glanced down at herself. Just moments before, she had actually felt like a woman. Now she felt like a Ranger, or a Ranger-ette as she had gotten to calling herself for these past few years. Smoothing down her armored cape, she decided she was ready to do what it took. After all, these Elves had created the person she was. Sort of. They had helped train her in the ways of this world to be more exact. If they were fighting distant battles, it would make sense for her to go to them. They had earned her allegiance a long time ago.

Pulling herself together, she marched right out of the tree city that evening and, listening to the scouting reports, found her way southeast towards the Anduin. The Elves that knew her name respected her enough to leave her be. She was on a mission and would kick any Elvish ass into submission if they dared mess with her now.

It didn't take her long to figure out that this forest had changed since she'd left it behind. Gone were the sounds of laughter and the songs she'd heard traveling throughout the entire wood. In its place was silence, only broken by the wind circling through the treetops. It was an eerie sound, one Buffy wasn't used to. One thing about traveling with Rangers – they made silence impossible. Men were notoriously loud while the Elves had commanding respect of their silence.

Once she'd reached the tongue, the pointing tip of land that separated the two rivers of the southeastern corner of Lórien, Buffy found the waters abandoned, but saw recent signs of ships moving to the west.

The Elves had left their domain.

"Isn't this just great?" she muttered angrily, storming around the land looking for any sign that her people were still there.

Her people… wasn't that a strange way to put it? The Elves were immortal beings and Buffy was just one who happened to be given the same grace as immortal beings. Ironic, in a weird sort of twist.

She had no choice but to return to the tree city and await word there. It was either that or return to Strider in the mountains.

Or, she could use one of these crafty boats and push herself on the Celebrant and head westward. If all else came to fail, she could spend yet another week traveling through the woods she'd come to know and admire.

Right, like Buffy the vampire Slayer had any clue on how to pilot and steer a boat.

It couldn't be that hard to figure out, she thought to herself. She easily lifted one of the small canoes and set it on the edge of the water. Lifting up an oar, she boarded the boat and pushed off.

As she rowed into the night, she found herself seeing the forest as she never had before. It looked both black and mysterious as darkness overtook her. It was then she started to realize that either she was glowing or the boat she was rowing was alight. She continued into the night and only stopped once she reached the edge of the forest. She had no ambition to go into the mountains, considering the fact she was rowing against the current.

She built herself a small fire on the bank and stared at her single bag morosely. She was no closer to finding her guard than she was to attacking a dark stronghold, and she'd done that twice.

She fell asleep near daybreak and stayed asleep until the ravens came from the north and started pecking at her and the burnt logs she'd been using. Opening one eye, she shooed them away before rising warily and rearming herself, feeling tired and grumpy. She really only had one choice now and that was to head back into the forest, unless…

Moving closer to the rocks on the edge of the jagged shoreline, she saw footprints. They were certainly not the heavy footprints an Orc or a man might make. They were lighter and more well-paced like those of an Elf. Feeling as though she'd finally accomplished something, she grabbed her pack and turned to head back to her boat, only to discover it was missing.

Dropping her sack angrily on the ground and kicking it aside, she grumbled, "Well isn't this just perfect?"

She could always swim back, she thought darkly as she prepared to travel back into the forest. Taking out the sword, she trudged northeast.

The next few weeks were spent in very tense silence. Buffy was about to give her old guard up for dead and return to see Strider when the Elvish song changed one morning. Turning over in her bed, she heard the sound of celebration below, sung in the faintest of voices.

Rising, she rushed down to where the others had gathered in a neat row, singing whilst holding ornaments. She paused on the staircase, her eyes spying Orophin and Rúmil. With a small cry of relief, she ran towards them, forgetting for the moment they didn't speak Westron. She was far too relieved to see the members of her former guard, and when they saw her, they knew her.

It was then the Marchwarden, hidden in the shadows of pure blue light, saw her, running towards his kin. He saw the look of absolute delight on her face and took in her features. She appeared to be even lovelier than she had been years ago when he'd first met and trained the younger woman.

She was also dressed in the garments of his people, something he had never expected to see. The pale green did nothing but pale her complexion, yet she appeared to be a shorter version of them. Her smile and her eyes, which had changed from a soft brownish-gold to a deep jade-green, were bright and shining. She still led with her heart, and it was one of the things that had endeared him towards his Slayer in the first place.

It had been years since he'd thought about their one perfect moment together. Since they parted over nine years before, he had missed her. She had brought a different aspect to his life he never saw coming, and that was the ability to act like a complete "smart ass", in her words.

As he pondered the reasons behind her reappearance, she turned and spotted him. He didn't see the way her eyes widened, as though she were coming face-to-face with someone forgotten a long time before. He only met her eyes when he saw the tears behind them. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears as she stared at him. He took in her appearance and felt himself dying to throw out an irritating quip about her finally accepting Elvish culture. But before he could even open his mouth, the look on her face hardened as she stormed to where he was standing.

"Why did you do that?" she demanded, jabbing him in the chest with her index finger. "Why in the hell did you scare me like that? I spent over a week out there searching for you, and you sent no word or anything! How could you do that to me? Don't you know how much I—"

Her words were cut off as his immortal hand came up and clamped itself over her mouth. Fixing her sternest gaze on him, she forcefully removed his hand. "You need not concern yourself with the dealings of my kind," he said calmly as she continued to open and close her mouth like a puckered fish.

"Yeah, well, right now, I'm glad I'm not concerned," she snapped before she walked off in her usual huff.

Such was their reunion. After nearly ten years of separation, they had managed to anger one another within seconds of coming face-to-face. It didn't last very long, considering she had gone through a major change of heart in the past few years. And after being parted from the only person who could inspire such reckless and impulsive actions from her, Buffy wasn't willing to let it get away.

She found him alone at one of the quiet ponds hours later. He glanced back to see her standing there, in a long white cloak, covering a gown the color of a soft winter's snow. She had obviously made an effort to apologize, and he suddenly found he didn't need one.

"Have a good war?" she asked blithely as she joined him.

"There have been a great many others," he replied, glancing at her inquisitively.

"Look," she said, glancing down as she folded her arms over her wrap, "I know I have no right to even be here… considering I just gave it up a long time ago, but still..."

"Must you always use many words?" he asked passively, glancing down into her green eyes. She smiled slightly up at him.

"I'm trying to apologize for being such a bitch," she said quietly. "The least you could do is let me do that."

"I have no need for your apologies," he said, moving away from her.

She closed her eyes, feeling the swift pain of rejection settling in. "Wait," she said, and he paused, turning to look at her. "I messed things up so badly back then and I knew that if I had another chance, I would things right. I've been royally screwed in the whole love thing and yet maybe I found what I wasn't looking for."

The look on his face changed as he regarded her in a new light. She had definitely changed in the past few years. In fact, her face hadn't changed at all, except for her eyes. "You have not aged a day," he said, cutting through her persistent rambling as he stole forward to touch her face and tip it to his. He gazed intently at the youth in the same face he had come to admire a decade before.

"I apparently have the life of the Eldar," she said, her voice slightly biting. She didn't move away from him. She didn't want to, not anymore. Her hand reached up to cover his. "Don't go."

"You were the one who walked away," he said, his humbling tone befuddling her yet again.

"I was scared," she said, glancing down, his hand finally falling from her cheek. "You don't know how many times a Slayer can get hurt by someone she loves."

He was still giving her that intent smile. "What say you?" Haldir asked gently.

"Gerich veleth nín," she said softly, not wanting to look at him. "Annan io."

"Is it what you seek?" he asked, approaching her again, this time from behind.

"I've been in war. I've seen peace. I've watched men live and die. I just found out I'm going to live a really long life, and I don't want to do it alone." She turned back to face him, glancing up into his piercing blue gaze. "No matter how many ask me for courtship, I gave my heart away a long time ago."

"Even now?" he asked, raising one curious eyebrow.

"Don't be such an arrogant bit," she said, smiling as the tears came back to her eyes. "I'm trying to say something here."

"There is no need," he said, reaching out and pulling her into a long, warm embrace. She sighed as she rested her face against his chest, breathing in his scent and feeling as though this was the reason she had been given this second chance. He wasn't dead and she was sure that with her own long life, they would have endless years ahead.

"I think that's the difference between men and Elves," she said teasingly, pulling out of his embrace as his strong hands cupped her face delicately. "They can go and mate whenever they like… but for you Elves, there's lots of respect. I get that now."

He rested his head atop hers. "Will you go again?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I don't want to go. I've had this need for a home for a long time now, and even though I can sense there's something big coming, something huge… I'm meant to be where I want. This world has no need for a Slayer that can't hunt vampires that don't exist. But there's always a spot on an Elvish guard for a crazy little woman who likes the pointy things."

"For that," he said, pushing a lock of her soft hair away from her face, "there is always room."

Her smile warmed her own heart as he bent down to capture her lips in a fiery kiss that left her breathless. As she pulled back, taking in a lungful of oxygen, she felt as though she had finally completed her task.

Years later, under the guise of a guard, she would come across Strider again, this time learning that he was the heir to the lost throne of Gondor. She was going to stand beside her beloved, an Elf with a chip on his shoulder the size of Siberia. She was going to share in his distrust of Dwarves.

There had been a time in the distant past when she would have considered this world nothing but a dream. Now she saw it as a revelation, a reward for her fifteen years of service on two Hellmouths. She had been granted this opportunity, and these things rarely came about in any lifetime. Knowing what she had gained, she could now say that she had found all of her hopes in this future, despite her misgivings that in the beginning, it had only been a dream.

She had the rest of her long life to look forward to. And she was going to live it for her.

- - - -

the end


	2. Lessons Better Learned

Lessons Better Learned

**Title:** Lessons Better Learned

**Rating:** PG-13 (violence & adult content)

**Genre:** Yet another Lord of the Rings/Buffy the Vampire Slayer Crossover (did you really expect anything different?)

**Teaser:** Buffy learns of her longing for family, despite the dangerous road that lies ahead. Part Two of the series.

**Summary:** Once upon a time I had this idea. The idea was supposed to be a gift and thus it was. However, others read this gift and decided that it needed to be continued. I'll write more relationship fictions, as I intend to do. But, one of these days, I will write something _other_ than Buffy and some Lord of the Rings male! It's somewhat shorter than its predecessor. It was meant to be for the private Guild showing, but I decided in the end that I was somewhat proud of this part, and after much prompting and a little nudging from my fellow author that I have been spending the holidays with, I have finally decided to post this. This is written for Trish since she requested it, and for Jesse who threatened to beat me with a wet mop if I didn't continue. So, yes, this has turned into an entire Buffy/Haldir _series_, describing their movements towards eternity, or something of the sort.

**Spoilers:** Gee, look, we're broaching on familiar territory here. Includes all three books, in case you were wondering, not to mention the extras in the Appendices from Return of the King, included through all of this series.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, belongs to respective owners, thus "But A Dream" does belong to me.

**Timeline:** Well, for those of you curious, Buffy has been in Middle-earth approximately 19 years now up to the point of the Ring being discovered by Gandalf (so within the 30 years before the Fellowship is formed in Rivendell). By the end of this story, it would have been far more than thirty years since her arrival, so she has been involved and swept up with everything for a long, long time. I also prefer not doing such stuffy headers because my guild accepts my faults. They don't vanquish the fact that sometimes even Literature majors cannot spell.

**Dedication:** To A and to C, who spent many, many months putting up with me. To J, because she utilized by beta-reading skills for Whisper, a story that still leaves me breathless. To add a note to C, because she came up with a fantastic world I want to be a part of. And, lastly, to B, who loves A, who loves B back. Maybe you two will _finally_ get it together enough to plan a future… hmm? Take a hint from the story, peons!

- - - - -

**Lessons Better Learned**

- - - - -

There are some things in the world that could be taken for granted. Grand, epic-scale battles were one of them. Also, an abundance of pretty men, far too tall to admire without getting a staunch crick in the neck, were often seen singing in rather feminine voices over alarming periods of time. Yet the one thing that Buffy Summers took for granted most in this world was her place in it.

She had a place in this world now. She lived in Lórien, amongst the Silvan Elves that dwelt there, under the guardianship of its Lord and Lady. She had spent many years in training as a Ranger from the North and had also trained as a lady from the gardens of Rivendell. Thus, in the years since she had returned to the one place she could truly call home, she had been one of the privileged many to defend its borders against the forces of darkness working to bring down the Elvish paradise.

Still, she couldn't help but marvel at the circumstances which brought her to this world to begin with. After tailing a rather obnoxious demon into a portal, Buffy had wound up in a new forest. She had been able to defeat the creature easily, but had been spotted and seen as prey by large, tall figures wearing feminine cloaks and pointy ears. Elves, they were called. One Elf in particular had been hard-pressed to her from the start, considering she was stronger and faster than he. Yet she spared no remorse in reminding him that she was who she was. She had joined his guard, but it had been for his own amusement above all else that she fought alone in their 'battles'. The same could be said for the other males, who preferred to smirk their arrogant little smiles at her as she fought _alone_ against the other evil forces of darkness.

She hated being ridiculed for her skill, but it had kept her alive above all.

Not to mention that pesky other thing. She had volunteered for guard duty when their Lady Galadriel went to visit her former son-in-law, the Lord Elrond of Rivendell. This excursion had been more than a revelation to her, as she had finally come to accept the Elvish culture she had been rejecting since the first day she'd come to this land. With this acceptance was a longing, and with that longing there was a certain golden Marchwarden.

He had been the cause of her greatest distress. It had been his smirk that had incensed her above all others. He was her leader and as her leader, he was privileged to certain things, one of them being humiliating the one human woman among the Elvish men. She hadn't let it get her down though. She'd fought her battles and shown them all up. While she would have loved to despise him for this constant reminder that she was an outsider, she didn't. She'd gone and fallen in love with him.

She'd first realized it after a beautiful nightly swim together that had ended up as a tangle of bodies in physical passion far more consuming than she had hoped for, or even looked for. Elves served to be amazing creatures, she'd come to discover. They had so much more energy than any man could, not to mention their intensity left nothing for desire. They were very pretty to look at, yet once you got to know one or two, as arrogant as a shoe-rubber and twice as brittle. They were unbreakable, unquenchable and basically unattainable.

So, Buffy, in her usual style of finding the wrong one, had gone off and had fallen in love with the first Elf to see her as a woman, and not as a Slayer or an outsider. One of the benefits of this world was the never-ending supply of courageous men who actually knew how to woo properly. Buffy appreciated this method of being wooed, even though it amounted to mostly bloody fights or sparring with swords. Still, it never hurt to be optimistic.

Haldir was unlike most of the arrogant Elves she had met. Well, in some ways he was even more pigheaded, but in the other ways he was… sweet. Even if she told it to his face, he would probably only use this knowledge to torture her later. He had a way of doing so.

Nevertheless, after one brilliant night together in Rivendell, she had taken up all of her own pride and dignity and ran. She'd been running for ten years before the wooing of others made her realize she was already taken. Her heart had been claimed years before. By the same Elf that had tried to humiliate her or else put her to shame, neither of which he managed to accomplish.

It didn't mean he wouldn't make things difficult for her. After all, it had been her realization that she wasn't aging that made her see that being with an Elf, and a Silvan at that, was possible. It was inevitable. No matter how much she loved the men of this land, and she did, as she had fought beside them for years; her heart was still longing for the touch of the one who could make everything blissfully numb.

After ten years of remaining with the Rangers, she'd gone to Lady Galadriel to figure out what was wrong with her. At thirty, she'd looked young. At forty, she'd looked exactly the same as she had at thirty. Galadriel had explained that she possessed the life of the Eldar, as a Dagnir, or Slayer, of the people. Well, that made things interesting. Making up her mind and picking her heart above her thoughts, she'd gone off to find Haldir, only to find out he'd gone off to war. After making a half-hearted attempt to catch up to him, the two were eventually reunited. Well, if you counted a period of around six months as a reunion. After their first initial meeting, she had pulled away again as fear of rejection set in. She didn't want to be left again. She didn't want to be unloved. And somehow Elves were different from men, as these Silvan had constantly reminded her.

In other words, once they loved someone, unless they died some horribly painful death, it was hard to forget that person.

It had eased her fears enough to actually put everything on the line for an immortal being. Again.

Buffy snorted derisively as she smoothed out the blanket she'd been using while sleeping upon the ground. She'd been traveling alone to the far mountains of Ered Mithrin of the north, past the forest of Mirkwood, while tracking two of the Ringwraiths that had accosted Dol Guldur in the forest across the Anduin. She'd been spending a lot of time alone lately, but it was to her own choosing. While she was still betrothed, it was nice to know that while the couple worked well together, Buffy also preferred to work in solitude.

She had used her guard to track the movements through Dol Guldur to the northern Grey Mountains, but had rejected their help and instead pressed on alone. She knew that Haldir would not be pleased with this decision of hers, but would understand that it was her decision alone to make. In the five years that had passed since she'd returned to her tree city of Caras Galadhon, they had spent much of that time together. But she needed her space, too, hence this journey.

However, her intelligence and research methods sucked in this world. No one had thought to inform her that the Dwarves had been driven centuries ago from these mountains, and that Orcs now claimed them. It was also known that they were home to many dragons, ones who didn't breathe fire but had sharp teeth and unbreakable skin. Tracking two Ringwraiths had seemed like an easy task. Facing an entire army of Orcs, not to mention a fleet of dragons didn't seem very intelligent.

Maybe she should have accepted help from her guard, she thought wryly, watching as two armored beasts halted at the base of a cavern before one swept inside. The horses pranced back and forth, casting their glistening heads. Using her skills that she'd obtained from nineteen years in this land, she held her ear to the ground, hoping to sense movement from within the rocky walls.

The slight rustle of laughter was heard inside, along with sharp voices issuing instructions. Since the language was in the speech of Black, she didn't know it. But it sounded as though these Orc were being recruited for a grand army. This was as far as her knowledge went. There was a new malice, one that Gandalf the Grey, a wizard of these parts, had told them of. He had spoken of the One ring, and it had taken Buffy nearly a year to learn what this one ring had meant.

It was the end of the world, all over again.

Sauron, the servant of the greatest enemy faced in Middle-earth, was summoning all armies, including these Orc from the Ered Mithrin, to his calling. She took a few more hasty steps before dropping her ear back to the ground, listening hard, her breathing labored. They were pressing onwards.

It was perfect time to do a little investigating of her own. Although she had chosen this assignment for herself, she knew the dangers involved. She slipped unnoticed past the horses, grazing on the few brown grasses in the entrance, before darting inside.

The cavern was very dark. Buffy pulled herself against the wall, into shadow, out of sight and sound from all watching and waiting. She moved stealthily along the wall, keeping an ear trained for someone following her. She was quite alone, or so she thought. At the end of the small passageway, she found herself gazing into one of the largest mines she had ever seen.

"This isn't good," she muttered, pulling out her sword and holding it at her side. While she'd imagined many things, seeing a great many fires burning stories below her was still above and beyond her call of duty. She moved along the ledge, in full sight of anyone who happened to glance up, yet the mines seemed abandoned. She reached a place where she could climb down and did so, making as little sound as possible. When she'd finally reached one of the landings, she gently hopped off, tumbling the last ten feet to the metallic ridge where she rose to her feet, glancing around curiously.

She walked along the track, her sword in hand, her eyes never leaving her surroundings, not even to take in the most beautiful sight to behold. Great tunnels seemed to lead into other parts of the mine, and Buffy realized she could get lost rather easily in here. Why this mine wasn't being defended, she would not know. Perhaps all of their attention was drawn away by the two Nazgûl that had seemed to command all attention. Although she longed to hear what they were saying, she knew she wouldn't understand a word of it. Instead, she forced herself to walk this track, passing mining cars and small stations were the Orc had been barreling their riches.

As one of the few outlanders to ever cross through the whole of Lórien, Buffy considered herself lucky. She'd received her fair share of jewels and tiaras, including the soft silver one she wore now. Along with her banded tiara she wore her silver star, set deep with a single pearl. It was the most beautiful thing he had given to her, and it had been given to her as a spoil and the only spoil from his battle nearly ten years before.

She was lucky to have found someone so thoughtful, she thought ruefully, examining her stone under critical light.

Passing through the tunnels was easy. Unfortunately, the further she went the more sound she heard. Great fires crackled at times beneath her, so much so that Buffy found herself climbing onto the ledges again, hovering far above the tiny caverns dotting the opposite shaft. She'd been walking for hours now, and it wasn't the wisest thing to do, since she had limited knowledge of any mines. The Dwarves had helped her all they could on this journey, yet it wasn't quite enough. She didn't want to be sealed in here without an exit, and the thought of being forced to leave a land she had come to love was almost staggering. After gaining all visual knowledge she could, she turned to double back.

Little did she know that she was going further and further into the mines.

At last, she dropped into one of the mining carts, the car rocking slightly beneath her feet as she pulled out her sword again. It was growing very dark now, as it did when she dropped altitude. She was now well underground, the way back to the outside world lost to her.

Buffy sighed irritably and replaced her sword before shifting her way out of the cart, landing once again on the track.

Suddenly, there was a sharp cry from behind her. Buffy turned and saw large shadows on the wall, cast by the fires burning a hundred feet below. Pushing her sweaty hair off of her face, Buffy had no choice but to return to her mining cart, full of stinky, sizzling ore.

But just as she had, there was an almighty wrenching sound as the cart started to pitch downwards along the track. She gasped as she fell onto her backside, glancing upwards as the ceiling above fell rather low as the cart passed through a tunnel.

Things were only going to get from bad to worse, she decided as she forced herself onto her knees and, crying out, pushed herself upwards to see over the top of the jagged metal edge. Her eyes widened at what she saw.

Orcs, hundreds of Orcs, were on the assembly line. There were long rows of carved out ore sitting in fire, as smiths poured buckets of water atop them. They were making swords, she thought idly, watching as this particular operation passed her by. She ducked out of sight as the car continued to descend further, the light of day disappearing completely into such pitch darkness that she felt her heart hammer into her eardrums, the very sound startling all of her already shaken senses. The sound of hammering came far ahead, and the cart pitched sharply to the left before colliding with something with such force Buffy was thrown to the opposite end again. Leaping to her feet, she used her enhanced sight to see the long line of carts waiting to enter another tunnel. As they rolled forward one by one, she began to realize something alarming; the tunnel they were aimed at was one of fire. Large flames wrapped around the cart as each passed through, supposedly melting the ore she was still standing on.

"This was smart," she muttered to herself. Pulling herself up on the side, she glanced around, but in the darkness, it was hard to find an escape route. There were beams above her, and she clasped one of these just as her cart moved forward and the ground beneath her was opened up.

"Oh, this is so not good," she gasped as she pulled herself onto the beam, glancing thousands of feet below at the tracks moving at a great distance. Not only was she lost, but she was trapped in a situation in which she would likely end up dead if she didn't rectify it. Spying a familiar ledge on the rock wall, she moved towards it and dropped down upon it. As she moved around the corridor into the next section, she heard voices that made her blood chill.

They were the Orcs all right, dumping vast quantities of Dwarven-crafted helms for their own usage at a pile far below her. Spying a few dead vines dangling above that swooped below, she gracefully leapt and took one before sliding several hundred feet. She reached the bottom swiftly and suddenly, crying out as her hands grasped the final six inches of the dead plant. Her eyes widened as she felt it lurch; her body weight, no matter how small, was unsettling the vine. And her cry alerted those dumping the helms to her presence. They glanced up and saw a figure in a long, dark blue cloak bobbing above them, clinging to a plant about to give way.

When it snapped, she fell twenty feet to the ground. When she stood up, she found herself facing a half-dozen Orc, all who wore the same hungry expression as they eyed a small human female, glowing with the distinctive light of the Eldar and one who was now unsheathing a sword as though it was her birthright.

She turned and with a front-flip, launched herself into another battle. With one swift punch, she dispelled one Orc before cleaving another cleanly into two. Turning to the others, she snarled before giving chase to them, realizing that, for once, she was moving upwards. She managed to catch two of them with her stunning speed, but the others darted into shadow before she had the chance to kill them, meaning she could be a sitting duck for the archers that could hide in these crevices. Taking the one known crevice she knew was not occupied by her enemy, she sank into it, but not before she fell backwards over a still figure.

Lifting her eyes, she spotted a skeletal figure on the ground. Bending down, she checked it. It was a Dwarf, or it had to be. The only difference was, it wore a great fang into what used to be its neck, and she pulled it out, holding it to the little light that remained in her shelter.

Outside, voices were starting to grow closer as word that a human woman was lost in the mines.

Buffy felt along the walls, but was startled to find no ceiling. It was a narrow enough passageway that she could climb up as far as she could. If she had to kick and punch her way through the rocks to get the hell out of here, it beat the appeal of using her sword to fight her way out. She could beat back a hundred Orc, that wasn't a problem. The problem would come when the two Ringwraiths would come. Buffy had never faced down one, and she never wished to, after learning the story of how the Silvans had been separated.

She heard the soft noise of water far above her. Could it be the mighty Anduin flowed over these hills? Perhaps she could find a way through the top. Glancing back down, she felt the skeletal remains until her hand hit gold, literally. The figure held in his possession a long chain of fine silver and at the end, a beautiful pendant. Tucking it into her belt, she also discovered a Dwarven axe. Since she had a particular fondness for such weaponry, she added it to her arsenal before turning her attention back to escape and cleanly scaling the passageway.

The voices continued to echo and fade as she climbed. The way was treacherous, and at times her footing broke loose and she would have fallen if not for her death-like grip on the axe she was using to pull herself up to the next height. When she'd finally reached the top of the cavern, she saw a brilliant shade of red emanating from her left and moved to crawl through the impossibly tiny space. Once she poked out the other side, she found herself once again lost in the mines.

But as she put her feet back onto a solid surface, she felt a light trickle from overhead and glanced up. There it was, she realized. Daylight.

She moved along the edge, her eyes alert for any approaching enemy. When she at last reached the bottom, she looked around and decided the time had come for her to continue working her way upwards. She dropped down onto another track and continued to crawl and move her way up, darting between mining carts and barrels full of silver and metal.

It was then she heard it; the piercing shriek of a Ringwraith. And it sounded from below her.

Buffy leapt into another cart and huddled down low, appearing as thought she were just ore as the creature appeared, riding on the backs of one of the fireless dragons. As it beat its' great, horned wings, the Nazgûl let out a vehement hiss to the Orc which followed from below.

"I want her found," the voice said, dead and brittle-sounding. Buffy felt her heart start thundering in her ears again as she held her breath, hoping for the great beast to pass.

The dragon gave a great cry just as a sharp light suddenly burst from the one object Buffy had tucked inside her belt.

It was one of the horns, she realized, glancing at the bright red glow. It was probably setting her off as fireworks, making her appear as obvious to the Ringwraith as she appeared in the daylight.

There was a hiss of triumph and Buffy leapt into the air just as the horned tail came crashing down, crushing the mining cart in one harsh blow. She landed unsteadily on the tracks, coming face-to-face with the dragon, which grinned at her with teeth that had to be six inches long. Rearing great, ugly claws, it started for her. Crying out, Buffy ducked and rolled away, nearly falling off the track. She managed to stay on by maintaining a one-handed hold before flipping herself back on top of the metallic railing.

"Oh, you found me," she muttered, dashing along the railing, her boots clicking on the soft silver metal as she continued to dash, only ducking when a great horned claw came out of the distance to grab at her. She came to a stop at a small station, her eyes looking for anything to use against the creature chasing after her. Her eyes fell upon a single bow and over a hundred arrows and she smiled grimly as she lifted her favorite weapon into her hands and with ease hocked an arrow. With Elvish ease and grace, she released unholy torment upon the creature, raining arrows down onto the dragon just as flanks of Orc burst through the cavern. Leaping on top of the barrel, she kicked the other two over, watching as they rolled. The Orcs on the tracks had no place to run and were bowled over, their bodies flying off into the abyss far below. Flipping backwards and quickly regaining her footing, she grabbed a quiver and yanked it over her shoulder as she continued to run upwards.

The Orcs laid pursuit. She had no sooner dispelled one group when two more replaced it. Seeing nothing but a single alternative left, she pulled out the poisoned horn and waved it in her hand. She had heard stories of old from the Dwarves she had learned not to trust of the explosive properties of the mining operations in these mountains. If she destroyed them now, she needed a catalyst, and this proved to be accurate. The Orcs stopped their pursuit, their bloodthirsty snarls telling her all she needed to know as she leapt from one track to the next seamlessly, the horn still in her hand. There were fires in the walls not twenty feet away. But as she turned, the second Ringwraith appeared on its own dragon.

And this one, it turned out, could breathe fire.

Buffy ducked aside just as a stream of flame issues from its mouth. Crying out as her shoulder was singed; she dropped to her knees before firing two arrows at the dragon's chest. The creature cried out and recoiled, but not before the damage had been done. The Dagnir was wounded now, and couldn't carry such speed and accuracy with an injury as she had. Yet she continued to move, limping now from her hard fall hours before. She fired arrows into the chasm and to her dismay, found herself in yet another mine.

She was never going to get out of here alive.

"Haldir, forgive me," she whispered as she turned about, bow in hand. She was running out of arrows now and being pursued by over a hundred Orc and two injured dragons wasn't going to be enough to stop this Slayer.

Her salvation came with the sudden discovery of even more barrels. But unlike the others, filled with jewels or pebbles, this one was filled with a coarse, grainy powder. Glancing up, she saw the enemies on approach. She also saw a hard metal rod bobbing on a wench. If she could blast the hell out of this room, the rod would go straight up and send the Slayer with it. She had no choice, even if it was suicide. She was lost in these caves and unless she received necessary help now, she could see none coming.

She turned her bow and jabbed it into one of the endless fire pits. It burned brightly as she pulled it out. She was burning her one useful weapon as she jumped and took hold of the rod with one hand, and threw the bow down into the powder with the other.

The resounding explosion rocked the entire mine. Buffy screamed as she felt her body being forced upwards, thick black smoke and deep flames billowing around her as the rock overhead gave way. Buffy found herself spiraling through the dark abyss outside before landing hard on soft ground. Overhead, she saw bits of red rock and smoke curling towards the moon, ever so high above.

"And the rockets red glare," she sang tunelessly under her breath as the pain in her shoulder seemed to double with the effort of breathing, "and the bombs bursting in air… gave truth to the night…" Before she could finish the words to a song she'd known since grade school, she blacked out.

She awoke with the soft sigh of a river running close to her. She turned onto her stomach and pulled herself into a painful seated position, her hand reaching for her torched shoulder. It stung and was still bloody. Wrapping it up as best as she could by ripping her own cloak, she glanced at the river flowing and saw, to her delight, the curl of black smoke still coming from the mines below. She could tell from the position of the hills and her other landmarks that she was too far east. She was almost directly north of Mirkwood now, and her only chance of escape would be the river.

The Anduin proved to be fruitful again. Yet as she sailed on its smooth waters, she forced herself to watch the sky in case the Nazgûl would return and claim their prey. She didn't hear one cry or see so much as a figure during her week's passage to the Fields of Gladden. Following these, she stored her canoe from sight and hid under the thick underbrush as Orc freely crossed these lands.

As she moved south, it was though something larger was tugging on her very being. There was an unstoppable malice in these fields, and she could sense it so cleanly.

It had to be the cursed Ring of Power, she decided. It had an enormous pull on her, even from this distance and she wasn't one bearing it. It was close to Lórien, she decided. Much too close. Her gaze looked east to the Hithaiglin. The mountains of mist were shadowed today, but with them came a great vibe of darkness. She shuddered slightly as she turned her attention to the small boat she was now piloting down the river, looking as little as driftwood.

The journey to Lórien took longer than expected. She finally reached Caras Galadhon on the fourteenth of January, more than ten months after she'd first left. She was welcomed by her former guard who regarded her with kindness, as they would one of their own.

She was quite anticipating her meeting with her Marchwarden however, and found his embrace to be as full of warmth and hope as she'd been longing for.

He'd also gotten along to treating her as one in grave peril. After forcing her to lie down so that he could have Orophin tend to her wounds, he watched her face as his brother cleaned the deep wound upon her shoulder. Buffy was talking about her mission now, something that greatly interested many of the Elves, yet Haldir didn't wish for any of them to enter his private hovel. Instead, he guarded the door, his face set in an arrogant mask Buffy knew was reserved for those wishing to go against his will. But if there was one thing she knew about Elves, it was that if they had a will, it was their way, no matter what.

It was one of the reasons she had come to love him.

Once Orophin had vanished, Haldir gently eased her into conversation.

"It's not something I'm really looking forward to talking about," she said uncomfortably, stretching out on his bed.

"Yet we must know what you found," he said, his piercing blue eyes never leaving her face.

"I know," she said in a small, defeated voice. "But give me time, okay? I saw a lot of things that I really don't want to relive again. If any of that came here… well, your guard would actually be busy for once. I doubt I could handle everything alone."

"You have handled much alone," he said, sitting next to her. He met her soft green gaze and reached over to take one of her hands. "Is this not the dangers you spoke of?"

She gave him a sad smile as she sat up and moved to rest within his embrace. "I know I talk a lot," she muttered irritably, "but that's the price you pay for betrothing yourself to a Slayer."

"There are always dangers in matters of the heart, meleth," he said, gently pressing his cheek against her hair. She relaxed in his arms and he felt her sigh.

"You're telling me, Pretty Boy," she yawned, smirking. "I'll give my report to the others, but just so you know, this past year hasn't been much fun for me."

"I have missed you," he said softly, speaking into her ear. He felt her shiver slightly as she turned her exhausted face to him.

"I missed you," she said, her eyes shining as she kissed his chin, giggling slightly. "You have no idea how much I wished you had been with me."

"You refused my offer to aid," he said, watching as she relaxed back down in his arms, closing her eyes.

"I know," she replied.

"As you have rejected my offers repeatedly since you declared devotion," he added, his eyebrows rising fairly as he glanced down into her unlined face.

"I know," she muttered, sounding more irritated now.

"Not to mention—"

"Okay, that's overkill," she muttered, opening her eyes and staring up at him. "If I'm going to have to spend the rest of our lives together listening to you critique me, chop me up now."

"This I would not do to you," he assured her, kissing her forehead as she closed her eyes once again. "Melin le, Dagnir," he whispered.

She smiled up at him. "Hannon le," she murmured. "Love you, too."

He waited until she had fallen asleep before leaving her. Glancing through the things on the ground that had gone with her on her journey, he found a small curved horn that burned a brilliant shade of red before setting it on top of a small table. He would ask her about it later.

As he approached, his guards asked him if she had recovered enough to tell her tales. She hadn't, and that wasn't going to change until she had some rest. He swept through his own ranks and found himself appearing before the Lady Galadriel. Once he told her all he knew, he retreated to back to his talan to find his Meleth hadn't yet left sleep. He sat and watched her rest, praying that her inner turmoil pass.

Two days later, after spending a great deal of time telling Galadriel and Celeborn about her mission to the great north did she return with Haldir on duty.

They had already spent hours discussing things, much to her chagrin. They walked together now, talking quietly. Even as they passed, her senses became well aware that the Ring was moving closer yet, and still…

"Haldir, nad no ennas," she whispered, breaking formation and darting forward to stand on top of a small rock, jutting out of the earth. He saw her lift her hand to her eyes and gaze to the north and saw her face tense. "There are eight coming."

Haldir made the signal to the rest of the archers and held out his arm as she leapt into his side and he gently put her upon the ground before they stole forward. Voices were now filtering through the woods and with it a certain robust tone that could only come from a Dwarf.

He noticed that she moved to stand next to Orophin, pulling her Elven bow from her shoulder, an arrow already in her opposite hand.

The party of eight paused when the Elves came out of the woods and pressed in upon them, their arrows pointing at every single member. Buffy was astonished to find an arrow pointing right back at her as she stood in position besides Orophin, her gaze sharp and wary. After spending two days holed up in the mines from hell, she wasn't about to trust just anyone.

"The dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark," Haldir said, adopting his holier-than-thou tone as he stepped from the woods to stand next to his betrothed. She didn't glance up at him, but kept her arrow aimed for the Elf still aiming his own arrow towards her.

Her eyes scanned the group. There was the Dwarf, she thought, her lip curling with distaste. With him were four other stout figures. Hobbits, or something as Galadriel had called them. The Elf was rather obvious, as he was tall and seemed to glow as brightly as her brethren did. What surprised her were the two men. One was completely unfamiliar to her, and yet the other was…

"Strider," she muttered under her breath.

"Haldir o Lórien," Strider said, pressing a hand respectively to his chest before holding his hands upwards in a sign of surrender. "Boe ammen veriad nîn."

So, he wanted their protection. Interesting, she thought wryly as she lowered her bow a quarter of an inch to gaze at the Ranger she'd left behind years ago. It was then that Strider saw her and his eyes widened, for he knew this woman as she stood beside the Marchwarden, glowing in ethereal light as he did.

"Tolo," Haldir ordered, turning as his guards lowered their arms, allowing Legolas to do the same. His eyes were on the small blonde woman, however. She was impeccably human, since she didn't radiate nearly as much as his own immortal race did, yet she was gifted with the grace of the Eldar. Haldir gave her one look and she quickly fell into line beside him as the others followed in suit. They journeyed south towards Caras Galadhon when they stopped. Haldir beckoned for Strider and the opposite Elf to climb into the platform with him, and the woman stepped forward without question and followed him before the two guests climbed up behind her.

When they reached the top, they found the woman standing on the edge, looking at them with cool intensity. Haldir, on the other hand, was gazing at them with deepest suspicion. After exchanging words in which Buffy knew that this was Strider, ala Aragorn, and Legolas of the neighboring woodland realm of Mirkwood, she found herself listening as Aragorn explained, in clear English, who they were.

The woman listened cleanly before interrupting, in the clear language of the land she lived, "Apahar aen?" she asked calmly, asking whether or not they had been followed.

Strider turned to her, shook his head and smiled, bowing his head respectively. "Dagnir, mellon nîn o Lórien," he said softly.

"Good to see you too, Strider," she said, throwing him a bemused smile before turning her attention to Haldir. She knew he wasn't sure whether or not to give these travelers protection. She drew upon the bond between them, the one that allowed them to speak telepathically to one another. He turned to her as she beckoned him, and as her eyes bored into his, he heard her own concerns.

He gave her a firm nod at last and turned to the others, his face impassive and calm, although his demeanor showed off his abundant arrogance. "Si bado," he finally said. "You are allowed passage. Come."

As they left the platform, Buffy learned that the party traveling with them was well-rounded indeed. Four Hobbits from the Shire were with them, along with a man from Gondor (or Minas Tirith, as Strider had said), not to mention one of the Dwarves, the son of Glóin. Haldir moved forward before offering her a hand and together they descended. Seeing the Marchwarden in the company of a human woman was one thing, but this Aragorn understood. This was the Elf that had laid claim to her heart and had turned her demeanor to frost for over nine years in his company. He watched as they moved together, their movements practiced and fluidic. They weren't touching, but they stood close enough, and he could tell by the intense vibe sweeping from both of them that there was a great deal of both love and respect between them for both parties involved. He respected her power and her strength, while she respected his heritage and his quirky arrogance, as she had called it so many times in his service.

At last they reached a clearing and beyond that lay the great city of Caras Galadhon. At the base of the city, they paused to rest for the evening, and the party of Aragorn came forward to inquire about the woman in a host of Elvish guards.

"She has been betrothed to the Warden for nearly twenty years," Aragorn said in a soft voice, watching as the couple dispatched the rest of the guard to take night watch themselves.

Striking in posture she was, for her back was as straight as any of Elf-kind. She was much smaller than they and bore no resemblance to the Silvan Elves. Her only rewarding factor was her slight glow as she walked upon the ground that night, her bow in her hand.

Yet, for her part, one of her most accomplished gifts was the gift of the median. She could feel the great battle this group had just undergone. They had lost one to their ranks, and Buffy had a sad feeling it was their strongest member. Seeing Strider as Aragorn was shocking, as he hadn't told her his true name in her ten loyal years of service to him. However, she felt most of her attention drawn between the dark-haired Hobbit who went by the name of Frodo. According to Aragorn, he was the one that carried the Ring of Power. She felt the deep conflict within him. But there was another member she felt. Her eyes were drawn to Boromir, the other man, from Gondor. She sat near him, watching his face carefully as he slept. She was going to need to have words with him.

At daybreak, Aragorn and the others awoke, somewhat well-rested, to find that Haldir and Buffy were waiting for them. It was another half-day's journey into the city before they reached the private landing of their Lord and Lady and it was there that they both bowed and stepped aside. To the uttermost delight of the eight weary travelers, seeing the evanescent glow from above brought hope into each of their hearts. After a quick bout of counsel from Galadriel and Celeborn, they were allowed to rest.

Buffy went with them, since it had been far too long since she'd seen another man. Haldir chose to part and embraced her, whispering something into her ear before parting. She smiled wistfully after him before spying the others breaking camp below. They glanced up and saw her approach without her cloak or armor, donned in a gown of soft-set pale green, her hair down and braided about her face, with a small crown of silver set on her brow.

Despite the fact she obviously wasn't an Elf, she certainly appeared to be one as she came to their location and lifted her hand in greeting.

"Mae Govannen," Aragorn said, moving to pull her aside. "It has been a long time, Buffy."

"Yes, it has," she said, standing on her tiptoes to glance curiously over his shoulder. Aragorn suppressed a smile at the expression on her face; it had been a long time since she'd seen a creature other than an Orc or an Elf, he decided as he took her by the arm and led her into his encampment. After a round of introductions, she noticed the Hobbits were staring at her in awe. Well, Buffy knew she looked pretty. It was just one of the givens after having Elrond counsel on mannerisms and Glorfindel counsel on the essentials of hair-braiding. With the glow from her own heart, she knew she appeared opalescent.

Legolas was the first to come forward as a soft song started filtering from above. His eyes met her soft jade green ones as he heard the lament to his beloved mentor. "A lament to Gandalf," he said softly as she nodded. "I had yet to meet you, as you have become so well known, even to my father. I am Legolas, son of Thranduilion."

"Mae govannen," she said, offering him her hand. As he grasped it, her gaze turned to the Hobbits. "You don't have to look at me like that. I'm not going to hex you or anything, nor am I any goddess. I'm Buffy."

The Hobbits, one by one, introduced themselves, lastly with Frodo, who gave her a softened look. "There has been word of you from Gandalf," he said softly.

Well, that wasn't a surprise, she thought dryly as she clasped his hand, and as she pulled it away, she felt some of the warmth from her grasp move into his. He felt the warmth in his heart and met her kind eyes and knew then he'd found someone with the strength to repel the darkness which sought him out.

She then turned to the Dwarf who stared at her. After exchanging pleasantries, she asked him where he came from and spoke of her last mission in the Grey Mountains.

"That land is treacherous to travel and even more deadly to behold," he said, scanning her up and down. "For one of the Elf-kind, you have done well for yourself."

"I try," she said dolefully. If Haldir saw her playing nice with the Dwarf, she'd never hear the end of it. Turning, she glanced for the eighth member of the Fellowship and found him sitting on a rock a few meters away from the rest of the party.

"Hello," she said, gesturing to the spot next to him. "Can I sit down?"

He moved over, staring hard at her. "You are no Elf."

"That much is a given," she chuckled as she sat down next to him, gazing intently into his soft grey gaze. "I'm Buffy."

"Boromir," he replied, his voice hushed as he glanced around the Elvish paradise. "How did you come to live in such a place?"

"Fate," she quipped darkly. "Fate and some ungodly reason stuck me here but to my heart's content, I'm happy. I could not say the same for you, Boromir. You see, I can feel when others aren't exactly all right…" Her gaze softened at the panicky look flashing through his eyes. "You have no reason to fear me. I will not hurt you."

"The Lady spoke of my father," Boromir said, glancing away. "She spoke of my family and the blood spilt through many generations to keep this world safe."

He turned back to her when he felt her warm touch on his arm. His eyes widened with surprise as he met her green-eyed gaze. "You are alone in this fight," she said quietly. "I, too, have felt this pain. I have spent my life dedicated to the fight against evil. I get to fight the bad guys. I've been pretty much alone my entire life, until now." Her smile vanished when she saw the harsh emotions spreading across his face. "Your heart wills you different from your thoughts," she said, rising. "Don't worry about making the right choices. When the time comes, they'll come to you." Bending down, she did something unexpected as she wrapped her arms around him, closing her eyes as she felt her warmth spread to his astonished touch. "Be safe, Boromir of Gondor. Your people need _you_."

Turning, she left him in peace. Another pair of grey eyes followed as Aragorn stepped into the clearing. He'd been most surprised when she'd gone to embrace him. He'd seen her face move from one of a warm welcome to pity and then lastly to understanding. If he hadn't known any better, he would have taken her down to Minas Tirith for Boromir when she'd been unattached. Despite their difference in age, since she was nearly fifty now, they would have been a strong pair together, just as she and her Marchwarden were now.

"Is she truly for real?" Boromir asked, watching as her beautiful glow disappeared as she trailed off.

"She is," Aragorn replied. "She traveled with the Rangers for nearly ten years before she returned here to find her love."

"The Elf," Boromir said, a deep sadness in his eyes. "She would have been such strength for Gondor, but alas should this Elf take her within his grasp."

Aragorn didn't have an answer for this. His eyes were still on the troubled expression on his kinsman's face, and he didn't know how to respond to that, either.

Buffy made her way silently into her shared talan before lying on the bed. It was getting quite late, and while she wanted to bathe, she felt the day's events return to her and bring with them exhaustion. Turning, she rose and gathered her things before leaving word for Haldir.

She came to a private pond a fair distance from the others. After she'd drawn herself a bath and rinsed off the rich lather, she stepped into a cooler pond and began relaxing the tensions from the day.

It wasn't five minutes before a pair of familiar arms wound themselves around her waist. She smiled as she relaxed her form against his, her arm reaching up and twisting itself around his neck as she turned in his arms. His lips found hers urgently, his hands moving down to hold her to him. As their movements became more frenzied, as did her passion, building to the point as he pinned her against the rocky wall, her legs wrapped effectively around his waist, her arms pinned over her head as their bodies moved as one. His lips traced a line of fire down her collarbone and she whimpered softly into his ear as they continued to move. It was several hours before they returned to the privacy of his talan, and yet they kept up these movements, growing with more and more feverous desire and stamina until daybreak when, spent at last, she fell asleep in his arms. He cradled her delicately, his eyes gazing into nothing as his mind rested.

She awoke a few hours later, and lifted herself from him, moving to the other end of the small room before dressing. Leaving him to rest, she departed.

She appeared before the Fellowship in a gown of white that morning. They were standing in a circle speaking when the figure came to them, and Aragorn warmly welcomed her. She had a radiant glow about her in the bright light, something the others attested to her being well-rested, though she was nothing of the sort.

For the next few weeks, the Fellowship prepared to take leave on the Anduin towards Gondor. Buffy had never been to Gondor, although she'd been to the north and west, but never that far to the south. Although she was intensely curious about Gondor, she kept her conversation to Boromir. She could feel his conflict and turned her personal attention and care towards him, much to Haldir's distaste. He didn't have anything to worry about, since they had been bonded for far too long for their bond to be broken now, but to feel her affections for a man was something he couldn't comprehend. It wasn't love, but it was friendship, as she kept telling him night after night.

A few days before the Fellowship was to depart, Aragorn finally pulled Buffy aside.

"You seem happy here," he said as they walked under the trees.

"I am," she replied, smiling at him. "My life is very full here."

"You finally have the love of the one you seek," he pointed out.

"I always have," she said, a sad smile gracing her features. "And now I always will."

This brought up the discussion of his love for Arwen Undomiel, the Evenstar from Rivendell and his own mortality. Despite Buffy's protests that their cases weren't the same, she supposed they had been in the beginning.

"It is her choice," Buffy finally said as they came to rest on the banks of one of the small babbling brooks. "I know how hard it is to love someone who's going to live forever. I've done it and now, for some odd reason, I've been given the light of the Eldar, so I know that…" She broke off, giving him a guilty smile. "I don't have anything to worry about unless one of us gets seriously dead sometime soon."

"There is nothing to feel shame for," Aragorn said, realizing then how fortunate he was to have known this woman. No wonder Haldir, one of the coldest, most arrogant Elves of the Silvan, loved her. She was strong and brave, fast and courageous and had such a heart on her that it burned brightly, even in the dead of night. He noticed her curious smile and chose to evade the more obvious questions.

The guards came from the darkness and with them was their leader. He noticed how she brightened when spying either the Marchwarden or one of his two brothers. When she wasn't playing hostess to the Fellowship, she was with the guards. He'd heard her speaking far more Elvish in this time than he'd heard from her ever. She was really well-versed in it, now. Of course, she'd had nearly twenty years to learn it all.

She left him there and moved on to Haldir's side. Aragorn watched the hand he placed on her back to pull her into the shadows with him.

"What's this?" she asked curiously as he continued to lead her through the trees until they'd come to rest at a small private fountain.

"This is no matter of lightness," he said heavily. Instantly, the smile vanished from her face.

"What is it?" she asked, taking a step away from him. "Meleth, what is on your mind?"

"We have spent many years together," he said, watching her face for her reaction.

"We have," she said, taking a step closer again and reaching out to put her hand to his face. "Things haven't changed. I still love you. You still have my love, Haldir. I don't think it'll ever change." She was sure it wouldn't. They had been through far too much together. And that had created a bond between them. They had saved each other's lives before. They had been connecting in deeper ways than she ever thought possible and he never could resist the urge to surprise her. "What is it?"

His question was direct. "Do you wish to go with the Fellowship?"

She stared at him for a moment in silent shock before gasping indignantly, "No! Of course not! I wouldn't trade anything to be here, with you and the others!"

"Of this you are certain?" he asked.

She answered it with one of her searing kisses, leaving no doubt in his mind where her heart truly lied.

Yet four days later, as she approached the bank of the Anduin as the three canoes were lined against the rocky surface, she half-wished she was going with them. They had such an adventure ahead of them, and with Boromir's continuing gloominess, her lightness would be most welcome. Aragorn and Legolas had both invited her to join, yet she desisted. Her heart was with her people, as she had spoken to them both, and they hadn't forced the issue. She watched as Lord Celeborn said his goodbyes, but Buffy recalled the conversation from the parting feast the night before this short journey. Celeborn had warned Aragorn of the dangers ahead. The Eastern Shore of the Anduin had been taken by Orcs. Buffy knew this, despite her mission, and had been well prepared for hiding into the shadows. But from the few guards she had been on to the south and west, she had discovered Orcs that were able to face sunlight, Orc bearing the white-hand. These seemed more dangerous and deadly, something she wasn't sure she liked. Despite her longing to go after these creatures, she remained safely in the forest with the guard. It was far too reckless to take on this malice alone. This was coming from someone who had just faced off two Ringwraiths and their entire mine of pet Orcs.

If Boromir had asked her alone to save his sanity, it would have been another matter altogether. After listening to his stories of Gondor for weeks, she longed to see the great city of Osgiliath, the former capital of Gondor, and the former tower of the Sun, Minas Tirith. Her true heart was in adventure, and despite being a guard for a closed people, she knew that even more adventure lurked on the outside.

Saying goodbye was difficult but not too hard for the Slayer. The Hobbits were easiest. She shook hands with them before assisting them into the boats. The Dwarf was next. Despite Haldir's rather amusing scowl, she clasped the Dwarf's shoulder and smiled at him. "Despite what my Pretty Boy says, your people are all right," she said. He bowed his head respectfully at this before departing.

Legolas was next. Buffy hadn't spent too much time around him, and yet she knew they would get along great. He was so piercing and young with both youth and agility. He brought stability crashing around her as he took her hand and whispered, "Hannon le."

"I didn't do anything," she protested.

"You have brought more than you know," he assured her, before parting.

Boromir was second-to-last. She hugged him tightly, saying comforting words, hoping they would break through the dark cloud pressing tighter around him. "When in doubt, trust your heart," she said, pulling away and pressing her fist to her heart. He gave her a wan smile before pushing off in his own canoe.

Lastly was Aragorn, who stood before his former protégé and smiled sadly at her. "I do not yet know if we will meet again, Dagnir," he said softly.

"Oh, we'll meet again," she said, throwing him her confident smile as they grasped hands. "Make no mistake about it, Ranger boy."

She returned to Haldir's side then, and he noticed the sadness crossing her face as they disappeared. Lady Galadriel was standing in the thicket above them, her hand in the air as the three small ships passed away.

"You look troubled, Dagnir," he said, taking her hand as they returned for the journey to their city.

"I know that there are bad things ahead for them," she replied.

"Do you wish now that you had gone with them?" he asked.

"No," she said firmly, squeezing his hand a bit tighter than she'd intended. His eyes widened as he looked down at her. "I'm perfectly content here."

"You are not," he said, watching her face. "You are restless here."

"We have our own trials coming, Haldir," she said patiently. "I have no time to worry about a Fellowship trying to destroy some Ring. Not when we have newbies to train."

"I could have done this in your stead," Haldir protested.

"I'm not leaving you again," she amended, stopping. He turned to look at her. "I almost lost you once… I'm not going to risk it again. So, whether you like it or not, I'm with you."

"Do you not account for your passing to the north as leaving?" he asked, arching one eyebrow as he smirked at her.

"Damn you," she pouted, turning and attempting to walk away. She would have had he not taken her by the shoulders.

After a more private moment together, they continued on.

When they reached the city, they found their Lord Celeborn waiting for them. "The Lady Galadriel has yet to return, but upon thee I bestow this." He moved aside and Buffy's eyes widened as she felt Haldir's hand tighten in her own.

"That changes things," she muttered under her breath as she saw the fallen form of Gandalf the Grey lying on a cot.

"This changes much," Lord Celeborn replied, glancing at his Marchwarden and the Dagnir in a very serious matter. "And yet this world will be changed to no end when this battle is finally over. If they do not succeed natha daged dhaer."

"I know this," Buffy said softly, almost regretting her decision to not join a Fellowship so close to breaking. She was so loyal to the world she was now tied to that any trace of anything threatening to break it was going to be killed in the most painful way possible.

Haldir led her away. He noticed her troubled face as they returned to their talan. He gently kissed her shoulder as he moved to his bed. She watched him undress before joining him. Once their heartbeats returned to normal, she pressed her ear to his heart and smiled softly. "That's a beautiful sound," she commented.

His reply was a swift kiss to the crown of her golden head.

"Haldir," she said, pulling back. "What do you think about a more permanent union between us?"

His gaze was curious as it met hers. "What is this you speak of?"

"Would you ever see yourself as hervenn-nîn?" she asked softly. His eyes widened as he surveyed her face before his usual arrogant look overcame his features.

"I believed you to be above such things," he replied, pulling her closer again. As he moved on top of her, holding her beneath him, their lips met and for a moment, her thoughts drifted away before coming to crash down again.

"I'm not," she said, and he pulled back, his blazing eyes now openly curious. "I just watched a weird sort of family leave these shores, Meleth-nîn. You've had my love for so long now, but I want more. I want a family someday of my own. You know, our own little Marchwardens running around."

He arched one eyebrow as he gently rolled from on top of her. "Truly?" he asked calmly.

"I know this isn't what you probably wanted, knowing that you live forever," she replied, running her fingertips lightly over his muscular arm, "but I'm not immortal. I mean, I am, but I'm also the Slayer. And if there's one thing that being near death and surrounded by people going to their death has taught me, it's that there's so much we can do with the time given to us. I don't want to lose you. And I don't want to waste anything. I gave myself to you a long time ago. But now it's time to bind myself to you forever."

"If this is truly what your heart desires…" he said slowly, and at the expression of glee on her face, he kissed her again as she rested her forehead against his.

"Hannon le," she whispered, kissing his nose. "You will not regret this."

"I am most certain I will," he said.

"Stop being such a sissy boy," she smirked.

"Only if you act more of a realist," he replied tartly.

"As long as you're still my Pretty Boy when I'm done," she said, smiling.

"I have no doubt in my mind I would never not be," he said dryly.

"I love you," she said, cuddling into him again.

He murmured her words as he rested his head against hers.

As they started making plans for a more private ceremony, Gandalf started to walk about again. Buffy was summoned to meet with both him and Galadriel and it was that same day another surprise came in the form of the two dark-haired twins of Elrond.

Buffy nearly shrieked when she saw them, tackling them with energy worthy of an Elf.

Their news was not of the good, as she would later put it.

They had been summoned from Rivendell. The Fellowship was in danger, it was spoken. They were on their way, with the others outside of the forest, to meet with Aragorn. And they had been instructed by their Father to bring the Slayer, who had once been in league with both the twins and the Ranger, with them.

This meant putting her potential wedding on hold, something she was not looking forward to doing.

And it meant having to say goodbye to Haldir, something else she didn't want to do.

He found her at their fountain, her hand trailing in the gentle flow of water.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, her gaze meeting his in the reflection of the pool. His hands came up to rest on her shoulders.

"You will return," he said softly. "When you do, I promise thee…"

She rose. "I know," she said, reaching for his hands. "I get it."

That night, their last together, neither one could sleep. They just stared into the other's eyes, memorizing each line and crevice. Buffy felt as though her heart were going to break again. She was going to war. And war would soon come upon Lórien. She was worried for her people, but she knew that Lady Galadriel had much strength.

"I'll be okay," she assured her Marchwarden as they made their way to the north that morning. He had been watching her closely, as though he were unwilling to release her into the cold world that lay beyond. "I've always been the stronger one." She nearly laughed at his scowl, yet he pulled her into his warm arms and held her for the longest time, until Elladan cleared his throat with a small, hacking cough. As she pulled back, she was blinking away tears. He bent down and pressed his lips to her forehead, savoring her scent one final time.

"Be safe," he said, bending down to speak into her ear. "Estelio ammen."

"Always," she said, giving him one last smile as she removed herself from his warm arms and turned, heading out into the wilderness with the twin sons of Elrond.

Each step took her farther away from her home, and yet the sun shone down on her, warming her heart which was starting to freeze with the thought of losing the one person she had come to love and respect above all others.

But of Buffy's own resolve, her will had yet to be tested.

In the months that followed, Buffy felt as though her everything was tested. It was the first time she was separated from Haldir with the thought of death approaching from both ends. Her heart ached every night on the road in the distance from her beloved. The Rangers brought joy and laughter back to her heart as, for the first time, she saw the adventurous road of the south.

It is what she had been seeking, and it finally had been found.

- - - - -

the end.


	3. Great Expectations

Great Expectations

**Title: **Great Expectations

**Rating:** PG-13 (once again, for the violence)

**Genre:** If you do not know this by now, you deserve to be shot.

**Teaser:** After being recruited by Elladan and Elrohir, Buffy finds herself back in the arms of her Ranger guards going to save their old leader. Part three of the series.

**Summary:** This story continues along the path of the first two. Buffy has been in Middle-earth for twenty years now, and during this time has fought in many battles, but has never gone to war. After being recruited by Elladan and Elrohir, Buffy accompanies them and the Rangers to find Aragorn, after a victory at Helm's Deep in Rohan. But with this new journey comes great perils, as Buffy discovers something equally disturbing about herself, something she never would have before thought possible… will it bring her back to the arms of the one she loves? Or will it drive her into the darkness, forever?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters, despite my wishes. I do, however, own the plotline from both "But A Dream" and "Lessons Better Learned", so spoilers abound.

**Spoilers:** This new series, a sequel of sorts to "But A Dream", follows the books (and, in part, the films) rather closely. You are forewarned.

**Dedications:** I wish I could have words for those of you who read and reviewed this "series". Thank goodness for each and every one of you! As I prepare to journey to extreme rural MN, I decided to add these next two parts. For those of you who wish to know how long this series is, well... Jesse is finally happy with the length of this fiction, and to say it is short is an understatement.

- - - - -

**Great Expectations**

- - - - -

Things would have been hilarious had their situation not been so dire.

Buffy was cursing the day Eru ever created such foul creatures as, for the fourth night running, they fought off the advances of what Halbarad had called a Uruk-hai. Halbarad was one of the northern Rangers she had spent ten years around. He was tall, stoic and wore a very stern face that, despite her cracking jokes and wry sense of humor, refused to lift.

After the small hunting party had fallen, Buffy wiped the dark blood from her sword and sheathed it, her face as impassive as the two tall Elves she accompanied. Or, as they would rather have it, as they accompanied her. In their week-long journey thus far, they had crossed into the plains of the Anduin, the great forests of Fangorn to their right and had driven into the northern parts of Rohan.

"We must press on," Halbarad said that night, the leader of a small group of Rangers. There were thirty in their company and Buffy was fortunate enough to be counted among their numbers. Having spent ten years in their services, it felt good to be with familiar humans and with the presence of the twin sons, she felt at least some of the comforts of home with her. For one, things were never dull with the two pranksters of Middle-earth present with the one they claimed their master. It was difficult to see the lightheartedness of the trio, but for the Rangers own sake, they could risk an indulgent smile for their own sanity.

They had no problems reminding her of the simple prank played nearly eighteen years before, one that involved a feast of sorts in the guest room of the young Slayer and then many small animals, including ravens that remained for days after she'd parted (and begged to stay with Glorfindel, since he was far enough away from Erestor's wrath for the young woman) and the sheep that had gnawed on her honey-soaked arm.

That would have been funny had they not been ambushed at that very moment by the Uruk-hai.

After yet another hour-long fight, the rest of the Orc disappeared into the gloom and Buffy found herself in the dark, staring at the slight glow she was generating, but recognizing the same faded glow from both Elladan and Elrohir, descendants of great lines of Noldorin and Sindarin. Smoothing her long midnight cloak, she retreated back to her own thoughts, which brought her home. Not to the home she'd come to know and love these twenty years, but of her family left behind in Cleveland, at the Hellmouth she had shared with many younger Slayers, Faith and her friends.

She missed them sometimes, and it was seen in her face, which she worked hard to keep as impassive as her people's. She wondered now what had become of them, for many years had passed there as well. Twenty years now had she been among the Elves, humans and Dwarves of this age. It had been twenty years since she had last killed a vampire. On the other hand, Sunnydale didn't have Orcs or other foul demons she constantly was fighting off. They didn't have wargs either, which she was unfortunate to come across their second night in the wilderness.

She hadn't had an entire group of men and two Elves watching her back, either. One of the benefits of living in Middle-earth was the abundance of powerful figures just rushing to the call of another.

As was their task now. Their errand was to get to Aragorn immediately, since his need was the direst.

Buffy rose to her feet after Halbarad's calling and stretched, yawning. She would give anything to curl up and sleep the next few hours, but sleep would have to wait. She pulled on her armor, left alone for the most part by these men, and finally retreated to her own steel-grey mare and mounted her.

They continued their hard ride into the night, casting towards the southwest. They had great need, and since the time they had left Lórien, Buffy had learned that a great battle had been fought two days before in which the evil from Isengard had been defeated.

"That's always good," Buffy muttered, closing her eyes against the brilliant sunrise ahead of them.

Onwards they pressed, going far into the south of Rohan, where the mountains once again approached.

"These are the Ered Nimrais," Elrohir said to her as they continued parallel to these hills for awhile.

"The White Mountains," she muttered, translating under her breath as she glanced at the great peaks above her, adorned, she spied, with towers. "What are those?"

"Those are the beacons of Gondor," Elrohir explained. "During the days of old, they were lit for all to come to the aid of Gondor. To our south lies great history and with this history lies much pain and toil, for many lived once in this southern Kingdom."

She was so close to Gondor, a place that Boromir had spoken of so beautifully. She was finally going to see it, or be close enough to overstep the border. She assumed the border was these mountains, since that was where the beacons were standing, silent against the great winds on the highest peaks.

A sudden, great cry rang above their heads and, face full of irritation, Buffy glanced up to see a winged creature seating a Ringwraith pass overhead and disappear to the west.

"We must hurry," Elladan counseled them, and they quickly made ready to move.

Pushing herself along, they rode into the night. But, this night, she spied movement heading to the east, far across the valley. She rode up to Halbarad and spoke quickly, and he gave the orders to double back. They had only been riding for a few hours when those with the far-seeing sight realized that the party they'd been riding behind had stopped.

Halbarad dismounted and moved forward as the figure called out, "Halt! Who rides in Rohan?"

Buffy waited with the others, her hands nervously playing with the hem of her midnight-blue traveling cloak. At last, he returned and with him was Aragorn. Buffy found herself beaming at her old mentor as he came, looking surprised to see her with the twin sons of Elrond.

They continued now at a slower pace into the night. Buffy pulled up beside Aragorn to hear his tale on the end of the Fellowship.

She heard the tale of Boromir's death, and it brought him no surprise to see that she knew it had been coming. "He was so filled with torment when I was around him," she explained as they rode into the night. "I knew I couldn't save him, but to hear of his death… wow. I bet there are some really happy people in Gondor, and Denethor must be thrilled."

"He has yet to learn of Boromir's death," Aragorn told her. "There may yet come a day when you pass through the city."

The thought of going to Minas Tirith, the white city as Boromir had told her, was beyond exciting. It was one of those good things she'd been dreaming of since she started this whole godforsaken mission.

As they rode on, the twin sons rode up around them, casting a suspicious look at her. "You have been conversing with our foster brother far too long, Dagnir," Elladan said, in a voice of mock-seriousness.

"Maybe I'll give him to you for awhile," Buffy smirked.

"A chance that favors your bold and rash conscience," Elrohir added, his sea-grey eyes as innocent as ever.

"Or so you say," Buffy shot back, feeling distinctly more grumpy now. She rode ahead towards the breaking of the sunrise as Elrohir turned back to Aragorn. "I bring word to you from my father," he said urgently. "The days are short. If thou art in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead…"

They reached Helm's Deep at sunrise. Buffy was so exhausted she could barely urge her tired mare to climb the causeway and pass through the remains of the gate. The scars of a previous battle marred what had once been a beautiful fortress. She had ridden alone for much of the night, a faint glow on a great, broad horizon. It was then that Buffy met the great king of Rohan, one that Aragorn had spoken of years before. She bowed before him and called herself "Buffy Dagnir" in his presence, cleverly using her title as her surname. It made more sense this way.

It was to his great surprise that the twin sons of Elrond came to her and stood about her, as though shielding her from the growing influence in the world of men they were now in. They in turn found her a cot on which to rest and guarded the door, stone-faced and stern. Aragorn wanted her to come with him, as she was one of his older friends, but chose not to go against the wishes of these Elves. They were likely under orders from Galadriel, Celeborn and their Marchwarden to watch over her. She was over fifty years of age now, yet she still looked as though she were thirty or younger.

Buffy awoke a few hours later to the sound of pounding on the door. Before she could even muster her voice to answer the call, the door burst open and a stream of figures came in. She gasped at the outrage of it all as she leapt to her feet. "What are you doing?" she gasped.

"They have asked us to send word that you should come," one of the men said, bowing his head courteously.

It was a little late for that, she decided as she gazed at the armor she had placed over a chair. She wore nothing now but her basic Elvish essentials, a tunic-top and a pair of lightweight trousers. She felt violently exposed and that was usually under penalty of death, but she must've felt rather chivalrous that day as she crossed her arms to hide her rather harsh behavior. "Who?" she asked.

"Aragorn has summoned you," the other guard replied. "He says that he must speak with you now before the others depart."

"I think I missed something," Buffy said, feeling confused. As she followed them out, wearing nothing but her simple clothing and feeling rather inadequate next to their Rohirric armor, they filled her in with the details. The King was pulling all of his guards to their mighty armory of Dunharrow and from there they would march to Gondor and the greatest battle of their time. Aragorn had disappeared for hours with Halbarad, both men she knew rather well, and returned only to summon the woman in their party. When she arrived at the small room, she was unsurprised to see Elladan and Elrohir standing just inside the door, waiting for her to pass. The two Rohirrim did not.

They led her into the room before closing the doors behind her. She glanced up at Aragorn, sitting on a bench. A bundle lay wrapped at their feet as Halbarad paced the tiny room.

"You could've done better than that," she said dryly. "Your execution for giving me a heart attack was so far off… that is, if Elves get heart attacks."

"This is what you are not," Aragorn said quietly, still staring at the dark lump on the ground.

She drew her attention to it, feeling a soft buzz in her mind. Whatever it was, it had once been an evil tool. "So, that yours? It's… lumpy."

"It is one of the Palantíri, one of the great seeing-stones from the past," he replied, bending down and lifting it into his grasp before offering it to her. "Take it. It is quite light, now that I have mastered it from the darkness."

Something from her history lessons clicked in her mind as she took it and unwrapped it, the black cloth falling to the ground as she held the large seeing stone in her hands. "It's got a lot of power," she said softly.

"It needed to be mastered," Halbarad said quietly. "Aragorn needed to know the strength of Sauron to plot our next course of action."

"Which is what?" she asked, turning to face Aragorn again, handing him back the seeing stone. "What are you going to do now?"

"Of this I am not yet certain," Aragorn replied, lifting his exhausted face to peer at hers. "I do know that time is working against us."

She walked over and sat down next to him and laid her hand on his arm. "Elrond wouldn't send his sons if he didn't know they could help," she said, choosing her words carefully. "Why they summoned me, I don't know. I may never know. The end of the world is coming, Aragorn. I want to be there at the end. And I know, as one of the many champions of this great world, you're going to be there with me. If the Paths of the Dead can serve any purpose, it would serve it best now."

Halbarad was giving her the strangest look. "Since when have you become so wise?" he asked, looking stunned at her thoughtful speech.

"I've spent too many years with the wisest," Buffy said, leaning back against the wall. "I think that bit came from Elrond himself. The man's got a superiority complex and a chip in his shoulder but when it comes down to the end of all things, he's the kind of guy you'd follow. Sort of like you." She turned her eyes to Aragorn. "Your country needs you. It already lost one brother. It can't stand to lose the other."

"I must go to the aid of my people," Aragorn said stubbornly. "This much I know."

"Then, let's go already!" Buffy said, leaping to her feet with such energy that Halbarad took a deliberate step away from her. "Light the beacons, sound the charge, blow the horn, ready the arrows! Do whatever you men do best, and I'll do what I do best."

"What may that be, Dagnir?" Halbarad asked her, as though afraid he didn't want to know the truth.

"I'm going to fight and I'm going to look pretty doing it," she said proudly.

"It is rather nice to know you have not lost your human sense of humor," Aragorn said, rising up behind her.

"You can't take the life out of this girl," Buffy said, a fond smile growing on her face. "Well, they tried… but… if at first you don't succeed, you turn the girl Immortal, you give her a nice, shiny Galadhrim bow, and you set her loose on a bunch of Orcs."

"She has been trained well," Halbarad said, smirking slightly. This woman's energy was starting to become contagious.

"Of course I'm trained well," Buffy snapped in mock-indignation, folding her arms. "It's my destiny. It's going to be both of your necks if you just stand there looking at me as though I've grown an extra head, too. So, snap to it."

Turning, she walked and burst out of the room, the doors swinging shut behind her.

"I think I liked her better before she returned to Lórien," Halbarad said with a sigh.

"She was quite that way before, or have you forgotten?" Aragorn replied, clasping the shoulder of his kinsman before following the path the woman had just taken.

"If she had not fallen away with plans of madness, you mean," Halbarad grumbled, remembering the many times that Buffy had come up with plans to get them out of substantially grim situations and that most of them had involved using Halbarad, easily the grumpiest of the group, as the pawn.

The three, accompanied by the so-called Marshal of these Rohan, the twin sons of Elrond, and the last two members of the Fellowship, Legolas and Gimli, ascended down the causeway and it was then that Buffy saw an enormous group of men and horses waiting below.

She was more aware now than ever that she was the only female in a group of many males. There were only three Elves, and two of them were smirking at her obvious discomfort. She decided to do what Haldir would have done in this situation. Well, what he would have done had he not whipped out his bow and knocked them all over. Instead, she forced her face into an impassive, arrogant, cold mask that matched that of Legolas as she walked up beside him. He gave her a look that she didn't return. Her eyes were on Aragorn as he stepped forward to speak with the King.

She was attracting a lot of attention, the others realized. In the distance, twenty six horses rode forward, bearing the rest of the Rangers. Buffy knew many of them, yet instead of smiling and waving in greeting, she kept her cold, stoic face on as Aragorn finally made up his mind.

"I must take the road of the Dimholt, and travel the Paths of the Dead."

Well, if looks had been more terrified, she thought to herself, feeling her façade slip away. Halbarad had already signed onto this journey, securing the other twenty six Rangers. She knew Elladan and Elrohir weren't going anywhere until they'd been given their chance to shoot someone. And Buffy knew that if they didn't go, she wasn't going anywhere.

The King bade them farewell and Buffy watched as the grand party trotted off across the valley. She was the last to retreat back to the Keep and she proceeded immediately to her room to dress. She felt better knowing that they had such strong allies in this war. What made her feel slightly put-off was the fact she'd known almost nothing of this war. Such was the way the Elves worked, she decided sadly as she pulled on her armor.

The ride to Dunharrow was swift. Once they arrived, they were greeted by the King's niece, who appeared to be a soldier, too, since she wore a chain-mail dress to the knees. The Rohirrim stood back as Aragorn entered and with him were his fellow Rangers, three Elves, a Dwarf and a woman. She dismounted with Elvish grace, and moved rather fluidly. The twin sons of Elrond worked to keep her out of sight of any who would supplant her and took her almost immediately to a tent, away from prying eyes and whispered conversations.

Aragorn knew she was going to give them hell for it, too.

Sure enough, as the others were settling down for dinner, they could hear her voice echoing as the wind swept up.

"It is quite the change to hear her shouting at another," Halbarad said, a look of fierce satisfaction in his eyes as he ate his stew.

"It has been nearly twenty years," Aragorn said, a smile playing around his lips. Éowyn glanced at them curiously, but before she could ask of whom they were speaking, the flap of the tent opened and a red-faced woman walked in.

The dynamic within the tent changed almost instantly as she turned infuriated green eyes on Aragorn. "Did you tell them to _baby_ me?" she accused, her voice low. "See, if you don't start talking, you're never going to put that pretty white crown on your head."

The others stared at her in disbelief as she pulled out her sword, a gift from the two Elves she had just finished berating and, quite possibly, had beaten to death. The glow around her was brightest when she was angry, and to say she was angry was a mere understatement.

It was a very gentle voice, deep within her mind, that seemed to calm her infuriated nerves. _Put down the weapon._

_No,_ she protested angrily. _He tries to make a mockery of me, and I will not have it. _

_You will,_ came the insistent voice. _You have come along to aid, not to torture those in whose aid your skills are most needed. _

Reluctantly, Buffy pulled the sword away from his neck, the anger in her eyes subsiding. Éowyn just stared at this woman in disbelief before the tent opened and two Elves came in, both smiling apologetically at the young woman along the wall, her sword held down at her side, all fire gone in her movements.

_Now I'm just a little weak in their eyes_, her mind thought accusingly. _Why did you make me do that for?_

_I had no such role in that, _the bemused voice replied. _I do wish for you to return alive and unspoiled, and attacking the would-be King of man would seem a lousy way to begin such a journey._

_As always, you're right._

_I may be right, but you still have more strength,_ the voice admitted grudgingly. _If that will bring you hope._

_It always brings me hope._

_I shall see you soon._

_Oh, yes,_ she thought, smirking provocatively as the others continued to stare at the woman gazing at the ceiling, looking rather thoughtful. _I am thinking of the exact place where I would want—_

_You have no room for these thoughts now. You must fight now to regain your honor and at least scrap your dignity._

_Spoil-sport._

The voice chuckled softly once and then the bond was broken. Her eyes cleared as she returned to the present. Glancing at all of the curious faces, she saw Aragorn's and gave him a quick, apologetic smile and a pat on the shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "Excuse me."

She rushed from the tent quickly.

By morning, she rose, feeling restless. It had been nearly a week and a half now without her lover beside her. She missed him far too much and despite the fact that his voice in her head kept a terrible situation from turning so much worse, she wished she could hear it in person.

Well, she was just a foolish little Slayer, half-Eldar-wannabe in love.

No one said it was easy.

She left her tent, wearing her long Elven cloak bound with a brooch of a star at her throat. She was going to watch the sunrise for the last time before even considering going to war. She folded her arms and stared at the pale colors on the horizon.

Hearing a sound next to her, she spotted Éowyn, looking almost terrified of the figure at the edge of the cliff, staring out over the beautiful horizon that lay hundreds of miles beyond.

"It's so pretty," Buffy said, before the other woman could dash away. "I can see why someone would want to stay up here."

Éowyn hesitated, and Buffy smirked her usual Elvish smirk. "You don't have any reason to fear me," she said softly. "I'm just a girl who knows how to use a sword."

"As am I," Éowyn replied, finally stepping up next to the shorter woman. "My people have learned to use swords, and women know they can still die if they do not defend themselves."

"Those are my kind of women," Buffy said, beaming at the taller woman, who looked startled. "Okay, how about we start this the right way. I'm Buffy."

"My name is Éowyn," the other woman replied. "I have not known Aragorn for long, but of you he did not speak."

"He wouldn't have, would he?" Buffy asked, smiling. "I was once in his Ranger corps. Yep, a girl like me fighting with a bunch of guys like them. It made for an interesting ten years of my life."

"Are you one gifted with the unnatural long life?" Éowyn asked, wondering how this woman could have served ten years with Aragorn when ten years ago this woman would have been but a child.

"Yes," Buffy replied, nodding. "I'm not one of the Dúnedain, though. I'm not like him."

"Yet you carry a longer life," Éowyn pressed.

"Yeah," Buffy shrugged. "My life has been one big gift from the Elves."

"You act as no woman of this land would," Éowyn said, her voice getting harder.

"That's because half of the time was spent with the Silvans. The other half was spent with old blood-and-guts back there," Buffy said, tilting her head towards the tent where Aragorn and the rest of the Rangers were resting. "I haven't spent much time around regular Joes. I never really had much need to."

"Your presence is envied," Éowyn said softly as Buffy turned to head away again. The other woman stopped and turned back, looking warily at the younger woman. "You have fought in wars where many can only dream of glory."

"There is no glory in war," Buffy replied sternly. "War is stupid and pointless. People die because they don't know how to survive. They're not ready to face what's to come because they can't fight what they don't know. I've been through war and I've been through hell. I know enough to give you nightmares. If my presence is envied, it should be because I'm still alive."

"You speak of war and battle as though they are commonplace," Éowyn said, her voice dropping.

"Where I come from, war is daily," Buffy said. "I don't think it'll ever stop. Until the First evil is gone from this place, it'll never stop coming. I go to war because I'm not going to leave my friends behind." This time, she was able to step away before she half-turned again. "War can only come to those that believe in it enough to win. Victory comes to those who believe in it the longest. I have fought many wars and have yet to lose one. I don't intend to start losing now."

That said, she turned and ducked back inside her tent and began to dress again, pulling on her Ranger's armor. By the time the summons came, she was all set to go. The horses were already set up. Walking to her own mare, she put her pack and her weaponry in the saddle before turning to Aragorn, who was approaching. She threaded her pack back onto the horse as she rose gracefully into her saddle and turned her. Legolas and Gimli were next to her, and they both regarded her for a moment.

The entire group rode to the edge of the encampment before Aragorn met them again. His face was tense, and there was a single figure following him, pleading. It was Éowyn. Judging by the heartbroken expression on her face, Aragorn had just rejected her advances. Buffy rode forward casually and looked down at the tear-streaked face.

"He cannot give me what I seek," she said softly, staring up at the jade eyes gently shining back at her.

"What you seek is more than a crown of old," Buffy said quietly. "You seek to be of the same fashion as the Kings of times past. You still have that dream, Éowyn. It's not over because he said it is. It's not over until you're dead and even then…" She broke off and gave the younger woman a parting smile. "Be safe."

And the entire party swept through the narrow tunnel towards the Paths of the Dead.

_Over the land there lies a long shadow._

The ride was uneasy at first, as they all huddled together to protect the horses which seemed ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. Legolas seemed keen to recount the story and Buffy found herself listening to help ease her restlessness.

A soft moan whispered through the wind. Buffy felt her eyes narrow as she glanced at the jagged rocks on her right.

He had only started when silence befell them as they approached the Dimholt.

Leading their nervous horses into the caverns was another thing altogether, Buffy thought dryly as she all but dragged the beast behind her. She kept her opposite hand on the sword attached to her left hip, always ready to defend. The others crept around her, and in the darkness, there were four faint shadows of glowing figures.

Elladan, carrying one of the three torches, dropped to the rear. Feeling as though she couldn't leave one of her own behind, Buffy dropped back with him.

"You should move ahead," he said sternly, swinging the torch back and forth.

"I'm not leaving your side," she said firmly. "You take rear, I take rear. Got it?"

"You have the most peculiar ways," Elladan said, frowning at the glowing woman standing at his side.

"Thank you," she said, smirking as she pulled slightly ahead, dragging her horse beside her.

Shadows crept along the wall as they moved as quickly as they could. She heard Aragorn calling out somewhere in the distance ahead.

"It's so dark," Buffy muttered under her breath as the last of the daylight passed away.

"Do not fear the darkness," Elladan said softly, reaching for her arm in the night. "They will sense your fears."

"It's hard to believe that I'm the Slayer and I'm afraid of the dark," she said, chuckling harshly.

"We have many fears," Elladan said in his wisest tone, swinging the torch over to bring light to her face. "To know that yours have conquered death is much."

"Hmm, you have a point," she added dryly as they turned a sharp corner. She bit back a startled gasp as he foot collided on something hard that shattered beneath the touch. "What was that?"

The torch lowered and her eyes fell upon a layer of human bones beneath her feet. She bit back a cry as she latched onto Elladan's arm.

"Why couldn't this have all just been another one of those grand stories?" she moaned as Elladan gave her a bemused look.

"What did you think happened to all of those who disturbed these halls?" he asked her, watching as she tried stepping gingerly around the skulls crackling beneath their feet. It didn't help that both of their steeds trod over the bones as though it was just plain earth.

"I didn't want to know," she retorted, taking a bit of a jump over a rather large stack of crushed bones, thoroughly ground into the earth from the passage of the party before them.

They finally reached a large cavern. Buffy practically ran into the circle of murky green light swirling about them. A peal of dark laughter surrounded them, and from the ground came long green, ghostly hands, as though bodies were coming out of the ground.

Buffy pulled out her sword, but in a single motion Elladan pushed her hand away. "Wait for this," he said quietly. "We must summon them, not intimidate them."

Well, when he put it that way…

Buffy sheathed her sword as Aragorn stepped forward, handing the torch to Legolas.

"I summon thee to fight and I will hold your oaths fulfilled."

Just these words brought a chill down her spine as she waited next to the Elf, breathing hard.

"Why must you always look to fight?" Elladan asked, more amusement in her voice.

"I'll fight you if you don't be quiet," she said, trying in vain not to lose her temper.

"You have such affinity for violence."

"I have what?" she asked, turning around to look at him when Halbarad turned and gave her a severe look. She retaliated by making a face of mock-indignation and sticking out her tongue. All of those who saw her reveled in the fact that, at her age, she could act like such youth. It brought a release to a tense moment as they were now surrounded by hoards of tall green men, all see-through and glowing.

"Fight for us, and I shall hold your oaths fulfilled."

Hundreds of sharp, glowing weapons were lifted in the air as the green figures pressed around those gathered inside the cavern. The horses neighed impatiently as Aragorn turned towards the exit. Just then, there was a grand sweep of green as the way was cleared.

"The way is shut… it was made by those who are dead… and the dead keep it… until the time comes…"

That did enough for her nerves as Aragorn took his torch back, lifted Anduil, and made his way through the long tunnel leading out the other side of the mountain.

Daylight came quickly as the thirty three members of their party came out of the hole in the mountain and settled on a great hill, stretching down to the Anduin below. At the foot of the mouth of the Anduin were the ruins of Pelargir. Buffy walked a small ways away before she turned to look at the scenery around her. They were approaching the city from the north.

And, on the banks of the great bay in the far distance, were many corsairs' ships.

But before she could charge forward, a hand latched onto her arm, pulling her backwards.

"Hey, get off," she protested, feeling her feet moving backwards as she was dragged back on top of the hill.

"We must have a sufficient plan," Aragorn replied, giving her a stern look as Elrohir finally released her, looking slightly irritated.

"We charge, your dead army attacks, and we kick butt," she said, waving her sword around impatiently.

"That is the way a Dagnir may handle things," Aragorn said in a voice of practiced patience. "It is not the way a royal would handle this."

"I keep forgetting the lot of you are all a bunch of royal pansies," she muttered coolly, jabbing her sword in the ground. "Okay, how about this? You do your thing, and I'll do mine." She glanced at the rock face behind them, where the black standard Arwen had sewn for him waved in the breeze, held by Halbarad.

Turning, she pulled her sword from the ground and averted her eyes away from theirs. She knew that Aragorn was worried she would do something stupid, but reckless was one thing a Slayer had to be. Improvisation was only an art perfected through time, and Buffy had had far too much time to hone in these skills. And they were rather alarming as she tore down the hill and, after a small pause, the others followed.

They traveled all of the way towards the hills over Pelargir. Night had started to fall on their third day of the journey, and the fires below grew brighter. Buffy kept low to the ground, well aware that the glow she emitted would send a warning to the Corsairs now not more than a few hundred meters away.

But before she could charge out, a figure landed in the grass next to her. She turned to see one of the other Rangers, his sword in hand as he crawled over to the spot where she was watching. "We should attack from the river."

"I agree," Buffy murmured, casting her eyes down to the river, where many figures were now rolling out barrels. "So, it's just you and me."

"He was hoping for a diversion," the Ranger replied, moving stealthily to her opposite side to allow her to see the path they were to take.

"I'll give him a diversion," she said firmly, her eyes now on the figures, counting each one of them.

"How?" the Ranger asked, gazing at her suspiciously.

"I'm going to kill them all," she replied, moving off down the hill. "That ought to distract them."

The Ranger had no choice but to follow behind her. She was like a spitfire when it came to many things and fighting was when she was working at her best. He found her racing along as fast as she could, since he could still see the light glowing from her.

She finally leapt from a small ledge onto the river rock below, crouching low as she ran towards the boats. From a distance, she saw Aragorn approaching the hills and cursed under her breath. She had to give him credit; he knew she wasn't going to fight if he was in the line of fire. She dropped back even further, her eyes narrowing in the gloomy light. Well, she'd show him. She was going to show them all…

Suddenly spying one of the ships in front of her, she changed tactics. Dropping most of her armor and all of her weapons but her sword, she approached the shoreline of the bay. The Ranger stood and watched as she turned and quietly entered the cold harbor water. "What are you doing?" he demanded as he followed up to the shore, watching as she waded in water up to her waist as she approached the ship.

She turned to him, grinning in the darkness. "Diverting," she said innocently, turning back and diving underwater.

This wasn't the way Aragorn had wanted it, the Ranger groaned. He was forced to follow her as the Corsairs were now alerted to the presence of outlanders.

Buffy emerged from the water on the other side of the boat, breathing hard as her hands grasped the wooden planks. She pulled herself up beam by beam until she reached a gaping slit. As the Ranger emerged from underneath her, she slipped one leg inside the boat and hoisted herself to safety.

She dropped hard on her back, her sword landing very near her head. She rolled out of the way just as it came down with a loud clang. Hearing the sound of laughter outside, she stood up, having to stoop because of the low ceiling where she was. She longed to have a light, but traced her way away from the water-side to the opposite wall before landing a swift kick.

The beams burst open as the woman pushed her way through. There was more light in the narrow passageway and it filled the tiny storage room she'd crawled into. She was just about to leave it behind when she heard a loud grunt behind her. She turned about, her sword in the air as she aimed it right at the Ranger, caught halfway between the floor and the rest of the ship, where he was trapped by his larger frame.

The sight of a woman standing there, an astonished hand over her mouth, was enough to make the Ranger even less thrilled. "Do you think you can tear yourself away from amusement and lend me a hand?"

He swore he heard her giggle as she walked back in. Instead of grabbing him and yanking him through, probably to his death from splinters, she started prying away the boards above his back until he could get his footing and landed in an unceremonious heap at her feet.

But, to his surprise, she helped him back up, brushing away the wooden dust and splinters adorning his dripping cloak. "You should have stripped," she said, turning in her own dripping clothes and lifting up her sword. She was surprisingly light on her feet, despite the fact she was soaking wet. They climbed up onto the deck beneath the top and heard the jeers and the shrieks of the Corsairs above them.

"Do not do anything foolish until Aragorn has had the chance to parley," the Ranger muttered in her ear as she approached the ladder beneath the top hatch. There was eagerness in her eyes that slightly disturbed the Ranger. Well, Aragorn never said she was the sane one.

"We do not parley with outsiders!" a voice in the distance shouted to the rise of more laughter.

Aragorn's response was mumbled.

She took a step up and the Ranger's arm came around her waist and pulled her squirming form back down. "I want to hear!" she protested, pushing him away.

"Perhaps it would be wisest to choose a different approach," he said, glaring at the movement in the boards above them. "To know that we come in the middle of the enemy would be most amusing."

"Spoil-sport," Buffy grumbled as she walked to the other end and glanced around. "That's the only one unless we… oh…" Her eyes were on the opposite side. She saw bits of firelight filtering through the boards. She ran quickly over to the wall and pushed against it, pulling board after board from the ship and depositing them at her feet. "I think it's time to climb again, Ranger boy." Turning, she pulled herself outside again.

With another muted sigh of impatience, the Ranger followed her. Once they had gotten to the top of the ship, they both pulled themselves onto the top deck. Buffy rolled over on her back and saw the smoky haze from the barrel fires burning around them. "That was… a workout," she sighed, rolling over onto her stomach and crawling over to a stack of crates and fishing nets.

Now she heard Aragorn's voice, loud and clear.

"We will have to take your ships by force," the future King was saying.

"I think I liked my plan better," Buffy grumbled. "He's just going to piss them off."

"I am beginning to think your plan was better as well," said the Ranger, sitting next to her, his own sword in his hand. She tried not to laugh at his frustrated face and the stupid cloak he wore that was all ripped from his crawl through the tiny space into the ship. His face was cut in two places and she reached forward, touching him with surprisingly warm hands.

"You look like hell," she said, giving him a soft half-smile, her features reflecting in the flickering light around them.

There was a sudden cry, a shriek and the sound of footsteps moving.

"Now he's pissed them off," Buffy said, getting to her knees and pushing one of the crates aside. Both of them watched as the figures on the boat went over to the railing to watch as one of their own fell from the boat, an arrow to his heart. "This is just… great," she huffed, getting to her feet. The Ranger looked at her. "Come on."

They both darted across the deck, quick as a shadow as another voice called out, "With what army will you attempt to waylay us?"

Aragorn's answer was firm. "This army."

With a roar of approval that he'd finally decided to act instead of talk, she burst forward, pulling out her sword. The Corsair pirates on the top deck didn't know what had happened by the time the Slayer met them. The Ranger followed behind her, both watching the other's back as the fought their way across the ship.

The rest of the harbor was swept through by thousands of ghostly green figures.

"This is… fun!" she cried, pulling out her sword from one of the pirates and kicking him overboard.

"I must admit I do find this most enjoyable," said the Ranger, watching as his own prey fell head over heels into the water below. Even though he was from Arnor in the north, to know that he was battling against the sworn blood-enemies of Gondor was most satisfying.

There were cries from below as the rest of the Rangers went to free one of the larger parties of Gondorians.

"It's always nice when we pick up armies," Buffy said, taking a small break to make certain that they had secured this ship.

"Would you care to continue this fight below?" the Ranger asked, opening the hatch with a bit of flourish.

"Lead on."

They met hardly any resistance until they reached the bottom of the ship. After slaying both guards easily, Buffy kicked open the door they'd been guarding and found… people. "Here!" she shouted, as the Ranger approached, handing her his torch. She ducked inside the room and her eyes widened slightly. There were faces, many of them young men. They all wore terrified looks at the sight of a young woman that glowed quite radiantly standing in the doorway sopping wet.

And the only thing she could think of to say was, "Heya."

The Ranger behind her snorted, "Perhaps it would be best to let me handle this."

"No," she said, switching hands as she put her sword back into its sheath. "Don't be afraid," she said, giving them what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "I am not going to hurt you."

"Who… who are you?" one of the smaller boys asked, looking at her in wonder. "You glow like those told in tales long ago."

"She is an Elf," another child said, gazing at her with eyes wide with astonishment.

"I'm a Ranger," she said, smirking slightly as she stood aside. "And you've just been freed. Now come on… go! Get out of here!"

She counted them as they swept past her. There were twenty seven of them. Turning to glance at the Ranger, he shrugged and they both made their way slowly back to the top deck.

Two of the ships in the harbor were now swarming with green beings, but she noticed a fourth ship was coming up quickly, at the heed of the screams of pain and agony as the Corsairs suffered the wrath of one mightily pissed off Ranger of Arnor.

They both sped to the edge of the rail, where a deck had been lowered and the prisoners were now dashing onto the docks below.

The ship was still approaching. They could hear a language far different from their own being shouted.

She raced to the opposite end just as Elladan and Elrohir spied her and hurried to get the remaining Gondorians from the ship. After that task had been complete, they raced up the plank to find Buffy at the opposite end of the ship, pulling herself on the opposite side.

"Dagnir!"

She nearly fell forward right then. She turned and saw the twin sons racing towards her. "What are your intentions?"

"I just feel like going for a little swim," she said, giving them both a bright smile. "I'll be all right. Don't worry." And she threw herself off the edge of the ship, disappearing into the water below.

The scene on land was chaos. The Corsairs were being outnumbered severely by the Army of the Dead. They also had over a dozen ships being boarded by these greenish ghosts, and the fact that there were normal, ordinary people taking the call to arms and fighting against their oppressors, they began to see the fight as lost.

All of their hopes remained in the single ship now coming up besides one that had been freed, arrows bouncing harmlessly off the wooden deck, for there was no one left to kill.

Buffy came up out of the water, scaling the anchor chain until she reached a place where she could latch onto the ship and she grabbed on.

Pulling herself up was another matter completely. She finally managed to roll onto the deck. She heard the voices crying out in alarm as green figures approached from the shoreline.

But there was another voice, and it was saying that there was a glowing object right underneath the anchor chain.

"Crap," she muttered, pulling out her sword. Seeing a barrel burning next to her, she pulled out one of the logs just as a war-cry rang out.

She stood up quickly, easily stunning the Corsairs with the fact that she wasn't very tall, nor was she very masculine.

"You know what," she said, stepping cleanly over a crate and kicking a second aside. "I'm really not in the mood to kill anymore. If you all just want to give up right here, I'll be happy to listen."

She stepped to the right just in time as a sword flew past her left ear, flying off the end of the ship.

"Okay, that was rude," she said angrily, brandishing her own sword with a twirl as she dropped her torch back inside the barrel.

They jumped at the chance to kill her then. She kicked the first one away and bent down before kicking out a second figure. The third figure she clashed swords with twice before her blade came across his neck and she kicked him back. With a twirl and a battle cry of her own, she launched herself into the fight against dozens of Corsairs, more who were coming up to see what was happening.

She jumped on a wench and grasped a rope, lifting her feet just as a sword came to cut her at the feet. Instead, it caught the rope, and the Slayer went soaring into the air. "Whoa!" she cried out. As she came down again, she tilted, easily cutting through a small throng of Corsairs before she flipped and easily came to her feet, her sword landing in her hand a moment later. They charged at her again, but before they could advance much further, they paused, their faces full of fear.

Buffy swung her sword down and grabbed the torch again with her hands. "That's right. Be afraid, be very, very—"

Her voice was cut off as a single arrow flew through the air, impaling itself in the forehead of the man she'd been jeering.

Elladan, Elrohir and her Ranger had arrived, all three of them looking disgruntled, and their ship full of green baddies were now streaming onto this ship.

The torch was taken gently from her hands.

"This was my ship!" Buffy exclaimed, stomping down one sodden boot. "Go find your own bloody ship."

Within hours, it was over. The Corsairs were utterly defeated, and the last of the scouts from the south were laid to waste as Aragorn claimed the fleet for Gondor, taking the lead ship and replacing the pirate's black flag with his own standard of Arwen. Buffy took a moment as she approached him to admire the seven stones gleaming in the rising sunlight. Aragorn looked restless, especially since he had just freed the Army of the Dead and had armed several hundred men and boys with weapons found in the old stores of the broken city.

"I like it," she said, tilting her head to better observe it. "It's… pretty."

He glanced down at her bemused smirk and sighed. "Why did you not do as I told?"

"You can't expect a Slayer to sit around and let men do all of the work," she said with a teasing smile.

"That is all with the plainest," he said, frowning, "but my instructions were for you to free to prisons on the land."

"What?" she gasped. Then, rolling her eyes, she burst into laughter. "Oh, my God…"

Aragorn watched as she laughed before joining in himself as the friends enjoyed one last laugh before turning to the blood-red sunrise appearing with the dark clouds over their heads.

"We must hurry," she said, walking over and leaning on the railing.

"I fear by the time we arrive the city will fall," Aragorn said, coming up beside her.

"I can see…" she said, frowning slightly as a vision passed through her mind. "The city is burning… and the armies are failing. The drive the enemy from the walls, but Rohan has yet to come."

"Rohan will come," Aragorn said stoutly. "There is much courage there, as there is here." He placed his hand over her bruised one. "You have yet to lose your courage or your will to fight."

"I'll be dead the day that comes," she said softly, watching as the last remained of sunlight was swallowed by the darkness. "I'm hoping it'll be awhile yet… but there's so much death. There's so much hate in this world… and you know what? I don't want to hate anymore."

Aragorn gave her a somewhat comforting smile before moving away.

Things had started to change, Buffy realized. She hadn't wanted them to. She was happy with her life the way it was, the way it had been before war and the Ring and the Fellowship. She felt a dull ache in her heart and sighed, dropping down on the wooden planks, feeling as though her entire being was spent. She had been fighting for so long now.

She dropped her sword beside her.

_Do not despair_, the voice inside her head spoke. _Do not give in to fear._

_I have nothing left to fear,_ she replied. _Maybe it's because I have nothing left._

_That is despair, Meleth-nîn. It has no place inside your heart._

_If I have a heart…__ I can't even feel anything. All I feel is cold, but my skin is warm. _

_These are not thoughts you should be having before you go into war._

_I know this,_ she said, her heart aching slightly at the thought. _But I feel so lost. I feel like I'm not even here. It's like I'm not supposed to be here, and yet, here I am. ._

_Be strong, my Dagnir. I have faith in you._

_You're the one that always did, _she thought, smiling down at her knees. _The thing is, I'm not sure I want to be the Slayer anymore._

The voice faded from her head as a pair of boots approached. With the arrival of the other Rangers, Halbarad handed her the cape, armor and the rest of her weaponry.

Aragorn gave the signal to get underway. Buffy rose and quickly found a replacement so her other clothes could dry. She walked, wearing a long cloak worn as a gown. What she didn't realize is that instead of her glow diminishing, it was growing brighter in intensity.

She chose to go with one of the rear ships, to have the opportunity to help train the newly-recruited Lebennese army. The two Elves nearest to her watched her go, exchanging a look, for her demeanor had changed much in the few hours since the one battle.

She sat on the head of the ship, watching the ships in front of her sail. She watched Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli work with their own men to get the ship moving and was somewhat proud when hers was the first to move.

Halbarad joined her then. "I could not leave you to be alone," he said, walking up beside her.

"I'm not alone," she said, glancing up at him. It was true. She wasn't the only hero anymore. She didn't have to be. It could all be over. All she had to do was say the magic words, and she would never be called upon to risk her neck again. She had a future to dream up and a wedding to plan. She had someone waiting for her back at a new home, one that had claimed her heart years before.

She had no need for this.

If she were to die, she would leave behind those that loved her. Well, she knew one loved her. She had friends in both the Elves and the men, it seemed. And she had lasting bonds with these Rangers.

It would be a great shame to die now, in a world so cold and hateful, when her skin was still so warm to touch.

The light of the Eldar had been the greatest blessing ever, she decided. She still felt thirty, despite the fact she had aged considerably.

Her hearing picked up the traces of a great battle in the distance and she turned away from Halbarad, clasping his shoulder as she moved on.

_In the dark, my fears release_

_My mind is set for peace…_

_The night wears on, colder than black ice_

_My sweet release is death_

_I have nowhere to go, I have yet to follow_

_The paths of the life I left behind_

_And still I fight my hardest fears_

_Remaining with me all my life_

_With a sigh, I remember the sounds_

_Of a life, of love, lost long ago_

_Where they have gone, where to go_

_I have not the heart to tell._

- - - - -

the end.


	4. Hope and Fear

Hope and Fear

**Title: **Hope and Fear

**Rating:** PG-15 (Violence) – Those with the faint of heart are encouraged to turn away. I am tempted to call this one R even, making it my first R-rated fiction ever.

**Genre:** Do you want to guess, or should I just hand over my brain?

**Teaser:** Buffy realizes she doesn't want to be a Slayer anymore just as the greatest battle of her life comes to pass. Part Four of the series.

**Summary:** This story continues along the path of the first three. Buffy has been in Middle-earth for twenty years. She is betrothed to a certain Silvan Elf that is waiting for her back in paradise, while Buffy fights in a war she never knew existed. This story follows her path on the Corsairs ships as they reach Minas Tirith. She realizes a vision lost from someone she considered a friend and walks the city of fate. Yet, as the darkness grows, her own paradise is at risk from an outside threat and Buffy is torn in which direction to pass further…

**Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters, despite my wishes. I do, however, own the plotline from both "But A Dream", "Lessons Better Learned" and "Great Expectations" so spoilers abound.

**Spoilers:** From "Return of the King", mostly.

**Dedications:** The poetry from "Great Expectations" and "Hope and Fear" comes from A, who wrote 'Visionary' and 'Forsaken' about a year ago. This is also about the fourth scene I've "directed" on Pelennor Fields. Each and every time I do it, I try to do something different. I ended up using "cuts" from the Extended Film version, since there were moments that had me in tears. Mostly book, and partially my edits, though. Enjoy the show.

**Notes:** My inspiration for the end of this section comes from the end music of "Return of the Jedi", the new DVD version. It was what I happened to be watching when I wrote this part now well over a month ago. Now that I stare at it though, I keep thinking "the beat goes on, la-ti-da-di-di... la-ti-da-di-da..." If I ever do get the courage to post the rest of the story (which seems to go on forever), I shall. I think that you all are beginning to get used to my writing style as it is.

- - - - -

**Hope and Fear**

- - - - -

Despite the fact they were getting closer to war, the sun burst through the clouds in places. A single ray fell across a stray tear drifting down the cheek of one Slayer, her eyes on the sky, praying for a release by the end of the day.

So much had happened, she thought, staring at the Anduin flowing calmly beneath the ship. From this angle, it looked like the Pacific. She smiled as she saw the water softly churning.

"To the journey," she whispered.

Ahead, the ships were coming to Minas Tirith from the south.

"Come," a gentle, yet stern voice said from behind, and Buffy turned, following Halbarad, the Ranger who'd accompanied her onto the rear ship. Around them were the faces of newly freed men, all wearing the same look of mingled fear yet rekindled hope.

"When we land," Halbarad began, "we will land in Osgiliath…"

Buffy tuned him out and leaned against the mast, staring up at the great black sails billowing over her head.

The sounds of the distant battle were now apparent to all.

She closed her eyes, her life from Sunnydale and later Cleveland flashing before her vision. It was time to let the old life die, she decided. She had to steel her backbone for what was to come. It was a great battle ahead, and she had to be ready for it. Opening her eyes, she felt a surge of strength, as though she had been lit aflame. Her jade eyes held fire as she lifted them to meet Halbarad's. A slow smile spread across his face as he turned to her.

"She will be the one to show thee the way," he said, using his sword to gesture her forward.

And, just as the way she had trained the Potentials, she stole forward, pulling out her sword.

"This is how it'll work—"

A large battalion of Orcs were waiting alongside the shoreline, eyeing the seven boats with great dislike.

"Late as usual!" the leader snarled, stepping forward, his spear digging painfully into the ground. "You pirate scum!"

On the battlefield, the reactions were of cold chaos. The Rohirrim, having arrived at the exact right time, had charged into a field flooded with enemies. The King had been spotted by the Captain of the Black Armies and had gone to take down the leader of Rohan. It was the untimely arrival of Éowyn, King Théoden's niece, which had saved him from complete annihilation at the hands of such a black creature. After slaying the beast, the Hobbit in her care had gone to the dying King, who was unaware that his niece had come to war at all.

Éomer, brother to Éowyn, spotted his sister on the field and knew her. His cries were heard through the hearts of the Rohirrim around him, glancing at the King's guards, broken and bloody beneath their horses and the remains of the winged creature Éowyn had slew.

It had a sad day for the Rohirrim as Éomer called his men to arms and they went charging into the fray, only to come up against the mûmakil, great creatures from the south in Harad. He had found himself outnumbered by many, and the foul creatures were able to sweep aside his horses, where they feared to tread with such creatures storming about.

From the seven-tiered city came the Prince of Dol Amroth with his guards and all of the force he could muster, driving the enemy from the city. But it was the great creatures of the Haradrim that divided much needed help from the despairing Rohirrim. Éomer saw his own error and feared that he would be calling his men to fight for the death.

And then the black ships came.

Seven there were, all of them with gleaming black sails along the harbor, sailing peacefully on the Anduin from the south, graceful and deadly, bringing with them a crashing sense of doom to all still fighting on the field. Éomer, now King of Rohan, drew his sword for what he felt would be the last time and gave the final call to arms, the horns blowing in the air.

But, behold! With the lead ship there was a flag in place of the skull with the crossed bones. In its place was a white tree, with seven stars, all gleaming.

And, for the first time that day, Éomer King gave a grim smile.

For fate had now given them a new fortune in this battle.

The Orcs stared in disbelief at the flag of Gondor, blowing fairly in the strong breeze that had come once the ships had passed into Osgiliath and beyond.

From the bow came one figure. As he landed, many more came. There were Elves and Men, a Dwarf and a woman. They all wore expressions of deepest intimidation, and they had no fear in their eyes. Gracing her forehead lightly with the sword bestowed upon her by the same Elves she ran into this battle with, Buffy lunged forward, and the battle thus began.

On the fields of Pelennor, Éomer led his own knights on, as Prince Imrahil caught up with him. Guards were sent to carry up the dead King's body and the body of Éowyn, to put them in the city for safekeeping.

The path to Pelennor was not a long one, Buffy realized as she fought her way through a small number of Orcs before an army of thousands more on foot tore into the valley. And with them came such great wind, as fortune had indeed turned in their favor.

Éomer soon fought his way to Aragorn, easily striking one at a time, looking as though he were rather amused at something. In the distance, the Slayer fought with the grace and skill only she could possess, easily dispatching a large number of enemies, her sword drinking rather well. Once she'd found an axe, she became even more lethal, both weapons spinning endlessly as she cut her way through the Haradrim. By her side was Elladan, followed by Elrohir, wanting to watch her back, and she in turned watched theirs. The three of the Elf-kind fought valiantly through a group of fleeing men before coming up against a large number of troll-like figures.

She ran forward first, leading the charge into battle. What she didn't realize is that these creatures had hammers that were particularly effective if they spotted someone running towards them with absolute murder in their eyes.

The second hammer swung at her connected and Buffy felt her body lift into the air before coming down hard. She managed to maintain a grip on her sword, but her battle axe went spinning seamless through the air. As she landed, she felt something inside of her snap. Opening her eyes to the murky grey sky above, she cried out as a third hammer stroke fell where she had been lying a second before. Back on her feet, wincing slightly as she breathed, she lifted her sword against the hammer, and found her sword was easily thrust away.

Two could play at that game.

She charged him then, leaping onto his hammer as it swung at her again. As she sailed into the air, she jumped again, this time with a flipping kick, twice over, and sent the troll reeling back. Grasping her sword again, she drove it into the troll's chest before raising herself upon the sword and driving her last dagger through his chin.

Both figures dropped to the ground, Buffy rolling out of the way as the dead figure lay heavily near her. Pulling out her sword, she mourned the loss of her last Elvish dagger for just one moment before she was attacked by a second troll-like figure.

Unbeknownst to her, the mûmakil were regrouping, and their hoards of men with them. Buffy turned away after unleashing torment upon the last troll to face a swarming number of figures. She lifted her sword and snarled under her breath as she charged forward, and to her utmost surprise, a large fleet of the men she'd freed came with her.

The charge was slowed almost at once. Batting away a bow with her sword, she hewed off one head before cleaving her sword into the throat of a second. Twisting her sword, she removed it, and as the figure collapsed, she rolled across his back to impale her sword into a third person.

It was then she received the blow.

It was sharp and quick. A single sword drew into her back, near her waist and ripped out again. She didn't cry out as she spun around, punching away the figure that'd stabbed her. Bringing her hand to her bleeding side, she felt her strength start to wane.

"No," she said to herself. "I am not going to die like this."

_You are not going to die like this. Get up… get up!_

With a roar and a fervor that she had never known before, she turned back, her sword spinning back into her hand. Her bonus was the battle-axe she had lost a while before and with both weapons, despite the possibility of broken ribs and a flesh wound to her side, she continued to fight.

It took a hard blow from the blunt end of a sword to her head to make her fall again. By this time, she had lost both of her weapons fighting creatures bigger than she had been, and she'd been killing things with her bare hands.

It was a lot harder to get up this time, she thought, glancing up. Through the blurring gaze of the sun breaking through the sky above her, she saw the bodies of the very men she'd freed, broken, bleeding and cursed, lying beneath the corpses of the Black Armies they had gone to destroy.

Death was something she understood a lot of, she realized sadly. She lived for death. That was the one thing that had separated her from the Elves she so dearly loved. They didn't understand death or what it meant to die.

Before a finishing blow could come to the woman on her knees, a sole figure came out and removed the head of the would-be murderer.

This brought Buffy's attention back to the light as sunlight spilled upon her figure, setting off her glow. She came back to her feet with a stumble and faced Legolas. "Hannon le," she said, giving him the briefest of smiles before collecting her sword and dashing back into the fight.

It was almost ironic; the very creature that had saved her from death was the same one that didn't have the capacity to understand it.

The fight went onwards through the day and finally, when the last of the enemies had been taken out, the great armies of Gondor stood.

Buffy walked with Elladan and Elrohir, checking the bodies of the Gondorians they had rescued and had sent in battle to their deaths. She had just finished checking one body when she saw something equally disturbing in the dirt.

It was a standard, one that the Rangers wore across their armor. They were distinctive to their bloodlines, and this one, she knew, belonged to Halbarad.

She saw him lying not twenty feet away.

"NO!" she screamed, pushing past the few Rohirrim standing around her. "NO!"

She fell to her knees beside one of her oldest and dearest friends, gathering his body to her arms, the tears coming almost naturally as the looked at the pool of blood he lay in. His eyes were open, full of the quiet silence of death, staring at the endless sky, now coming to red from the smoke in the city blowing to the clouds, and from the sun bursting through the gloom.

She reached out and with a calm hand closed his eyes, bending over him. He had been the one who had stood by her side for ten years, she realized as she released him and stood up on shaky legs, her body's ailments finally reaching up to her. With a cry, she fell over.

From this angle, she could see where he had been pierced, driven through twice with a sword. She reached for the deep cut, now cold and touched his body. It was so cold beneath her touch and her hand trembled as she pulled it back. A single tear worked its way down her cheek as she placed her head on the dead ground, trying to breathe, but her own blood loss was getting to her, as was the deep cut on her face, the knot of dried blood at the back of her skull, and the ribs she'd broken when she'd been hit with the troll's hammer.

All she wanted to do was sleep. It took all of her power to keep her eyes open.

She heard another shout of "No!" permeate through the fields and attempted to roll onto her back, but as she did, she felt the sharp pain from her side. Her Slayer powers were already working to heal her body, but of the deep chill within her heart, all she felt was death. She was surrounded by many bodies, most of them of the enemy.

A hand touched her face an hour later.

"She is warm," said a quiet voice. She felt her eyes want to open, but sleep was desperate to overcome her.

"We will take her into the Houses of Healing," said a second voice. She felt a shadow come across her face. She felt one arm slide under her neck and another beneath her knees as her body was lifted gingerly into the air. After what seemed like a small eternity, she was placed on a large shield and was brought towards the city. Near the outer edges, many men were pitching tents. One in particular turned to see a figure being brought forth by three Rohirrim, and as they set the shield down, he saw her face, cut and bruised.

This was not the way he would have wanted her to fight, he decided as he reached to grasp her hand. It was still warm, yet her eyes remained closed and impassive.

Buffy didn't wake up until a sliver of moonlight hit her face. She turned her head to rid of the light and felt her eyelids flutter open to reveal an Elf standing over her. In her mental state, she could not tell if it was Elladan or Elrohir.

"Hi," she said softly.

"You have awoken," the Elf replied, coming to her side and dabbing at her face with a towel. She felt the pain and hissed as he gently cleaned the deep gash. "Be still, for you heal rapidly, little one."

Elladan was the only one stupid enough to call her little, she decided dryly. "How many…" she tried as her throat closed. Her mouth was dry and she felt as though she'd been lying in a desert for months. "How many… did we lose?"

"Not many," Elladan said comfortingly, setting the towel aside and gently helping her to sit up before handing her a silver goblet. "Please drink this. You will feel better."

"Elladan," she said quietly, taking the goblet, but staring at it. "Is Aragorn…?"

"He lives," the Elf replied, standing now in the doorway. "Drink now, and rest. He will come and see you when the time comes."

Buffy brought the cup to her lips and drank the cold water, feeling much better when she put the cup aside. Lying back against her coverings, she closed her eyes. It was still rather painful to breathe, yet she felt no trouble with it.

She opened her eyes again when she felt another shadow pass her face. She glanced over at Aragorn standing in the doorway, wrapped in an Elvish cloak. She tried to stand up but felt her weary legs give way underneath her. Aragorn rushed forward and helped her up, but instead of setting her back down, he pulled her into his arms, crushing her with his warm embrace. She clung gratefully to him and for a moment, everything passed away.

He gently helped her sit down again, and she regarded him with those shining eyes. "I'm glad to see you're still around," she said, grinning.

"My heart is glad to see that you live, as well," Aragorn replied, leaning against the wall.

"It was… hard to see them all there," she said, breaking eye contact and looking away. "All of those bodies… and Halbarad… do you remember the first time I met him?"

"I seem to recall that it was you who pulled the sword after he had sworn you a child. You managed to have him on his back within three full seconds," Aragorn said, recalling this with a smile. "Those were good times."

"Yes, they were," Buffy said, folding her arms, wincing slightly as her lungs gave a rather painful twitch. "Where am I?"

"You are in the Houses of Healing," Aragorn replied, watching as she glanced around the room in awe. "They are in the city of Minas Tirith."

"Boromir's city," she said, turning back to meet his steely gaze. "He so wanted me to see this and now I have… or at least the Emergency Room half of it." She gave a dry cough and clutched at her chest.

"You must rest, Dagnir, for our journey is not yet over," he said, watching her with concern flickering across his face. He knew he shouldn't bother. It was her resilience to the cultures around her that made her so desirable to work with.

"I kind of figured we had a bit more of a walk to take," Buffy said, shrugging. "I'm used to it."

"I was hoping to get one of your rallying cries," he said, smiling fondly at the memories of her cries of, "Death!"

"Well, if you close your eyes and wish really, really hard…" she said, grinning again. She noticed then how troubled he looked. "What is it, Aragorn? You're hiding something from me, and you've never been one to do so."

"Éowyn," he said simply.

"I kind of figured she had this thing for you," Buffy said slowly, trying to understand what he was saying.

But that obviously wasn't what troubled him. Her eyebrows snapped down as he took in the puzzled look on her face. "She is here," he finally admitted. "She is resting now within the Houses of Healing." At this, Buffy gasped and pushed herself into a standing position again, wobbling slightly. "She nearly died when… where are you going?"

Buffy had just pushed him aside, rushing into a narrow corridor filled with moonlight and the scent of sweet peppermint. She looked from room to room, feeling all of her energy depleting before she found the room she'd been looking for. Éomer was there with his sister, and when he heard a figure moan behind him, he turned just as a figure fell into the room. He reacted quickly to catch this figure and saw the woman he only knew as Buffy holding onto his arms, looking winded.

"I'm sorry," she said, scrambling back to her feet. "I'm just… sorry." She gave him an apologetic smile before turning her attention to the woman staring up at her. "Éowyn? Éowyn?"

Éomer watched his sister smile tiredly at the figure above her as Buffy knelt down next to her cot, taking Éowyn's hand in her own marred one. "I was an idiot to think you didn't want this," Buffy said softly.

"I had to see this day for myself," Éowyn said weakly. "For my heart has not the courage to tell. I was to fade away into the banes of existence…"

"No," Buffy said, shaking her head. "No. You were never meant to die, Éowyn. You were meant for a great many things, and war was just one."

"I never knew that my path was this one," Éowyn said, pulling her gaze away as she closed her eyes. "I do not wish for it any longer, but to see my days gone in one last battle of—"

"No more battles," Buffy said, reaching up with her opposite hand and gently stroking Éowyn's golden hair. "No more battles for you. No more war. No more despair. Your eyes weren't meant for such grief."

She watched as the woman closed her eyes. "Are you leaving now?" she asked sadly. "Will you go to war again?"

"Not tonight," Buffy said, resting her head on the cot. "Tonight, I'm going to look after you."

Éowyn's eyes closed and her breathing labored. Buffy sat by her side, gently holding her hand and stroking her hair until the younger woman had fallen asleep. When she had done so, Buffy gently pushed herself upwards and turned to face the King of Rohan.

"My lord," she said, giving him a long, low bow of respect before he stepped aside, allowing her passage back into the corridors. He saw her walk towards the gardens and into the darkness, a bit of smoke blowing through behind her. He chose to follow her and paused, watching as she walked into the total darkness, and a soft glow came from her as she looked at the city outside.

Buffy felt his eyes on her but didn't call to him. He wanted to see what she was and who she was, obviously because his sister knew her. Buffy smiled as she glanced around her. Despite the fact that half of the city had either been subject to flame, catapulted rock, attack or a combination of all three, it was still a beautiful sight to behold.

_I wish you could be seeing this right now,_ she said, her thoughts gently easing her back into a state of restful calm.

The voice that returned was soft and reassuring. _Your strength returns._

_I'm feeling a little better,_ she replied. _I wish you were here, though. It would make this night much better._

_I am in your thoughts and with this connection, your mind,_ his voice replied. _I am always with you._

_Sí__ na i veth naid bain, gerich veleth nîn, _she said.

What happened next was more than just a simple caress, she realized. It was as though he were there, his arms around her, comforting her pains and easing every last sorrow in her mind. She felt her mind go blissfully calm.

To those seeing her glowing in the darkness, they saw her in a trance. It was only when Elladan passed through the corridors did he go to her. When he saw her eyes, they were very distance, staring into nothing, a soft smile upon her lips. Taking her hand, he gently led her back to her own room and set her on her own cot, not an easy feat since she had gone somewhat rigid.

As an afterthought, he passed his hands over her eyes, cutting off the light from the dawn now fast approaching.

Buffy awoke hours later, tucked into a warm corner of her room, feeling as though she'd just gotten the best night of sleep in her life. She also felt it was easier to breathe, and to walk was almost simple. She was adorned in a long green-grey Elvish cloak, hiding her tunic and trousers from view. When she undid the cloak and stared at the condition of her clothing beneath it, she hastily did up the cloak again and walked into the corridors.

She found Legolas and Gimli speaking with one of the tallest men she had ever seen. Next to Legolas, the Elf looked far too thin and pale, yet beautiful in his own light. When the Elf spied her, he gave out his own welcome. She smiled and greeted him back before turning to the Dwarf. She bowed her head, the most respectful thing she could have done, considering her betrothed had nearly killed him just weeks earlier.

She at last turned her attention to a crowned man staring very curiously at her. "Hîr nín," she said, giving him a full bow before turning to look at Legolas, who was still gazing at her.

"I am called Imrahil and I dwell at Dol Amroth," he said, introducing himself.

"I'm Buffy," she replied, extending her hand in a less formal way. "I'm from around here."

"She comes from the wood of Lórien," Legolas said, his voice intense as he turned his gaze to the Prince. "I have a message for you both and for Éomer; Aragorn has asked you to come to the tents outside of the city. He will not come back, but he must speak with both of you. Gandalf has already gone." Giving them both a small bow, he left, the Dwarf tagging behind him.

"I'll go get Éomer," Buffy offered, turning back to the man and giving him a soft smile. "I wish to check on Éowyn anyway." Leaving him to go back through the city, she went to collect the new King of Rohan, and, by doing so, she found Éowyn still sleeping deeply.

"I did not know you had words with my sister," Éomer said as they walked through the beautiful marble streets together.

"We had several, as a matter of fact," Buffy said, chuckling. "I like your sister. She's a far braver woman than I think she knows. It takes a lot of strength to do what she did, and I think I can safely say that someday war might be a gender-negligent dominion."

"I know very little of you," Éomer commented.

"Not many people do," she echoed. "I live with the Elves who seemed to have lost touch with this reality a long time ago." She gazed at the city as she passed through it. "I don't know a lot about Gondor, but they know how to build a city. I just wish Boromir would have gotten the chance to get back here."

"You have heard of the Steward's son?" Éomer asked.

"He passed through Lórien weeks ago," Buffy replied. "I spent some time with him and found him to be a noble man." She paused suddenly, regarding him. "You know, you really do strike me as a King. It's kind of hard to be surrounded by all of you royals, but you manage to fit the image rather well. I congratulate you."

They were walking through the battle-scarred first level now. There was only a narrow aisle opened, as the rest was debris, and in another section, soldiers and their body parts.

"Okay, that's just disturbing," she muttered as they passed through the broken gates. The tent was only a few hundred meters away, and they both entered. When she closed the flap behind her, she turned to see Aragorn with Gandalf, both men she knew. She bowed her head at both of them before turning her expression to the two impassive faces of the Elf-twins.

She moved immediately to stand next to them. Elrohir clasped her shoulder with his hand before pulling his features back into that impeccable mask of nothingness.

And so the great and final debate began.

Gandalf spoke to them, telling them that victory was not achievable through strength of arms. Buffy knew this, considering far too many had died. They continued to debate whether or not to march on the Black Gates to give Frodo a chance to finally rid himself of the Ring and free Middle-earth of the darkness still threatening to consume it.

Both Prince Imrahil and King Éomer expressed their decision to follow Aragorn to whatever end, although Imrahil wasn't willing to leave the city unguarded.

Aragorn then looked upon his elder foster brothers and the young Dagnir that stood between them. She gave him a hasty smile. "Gurth a chyth-in-edhil!" she said, grinning.

Next to her, Elladan gave a wan smile. Elrohir's eyes started to sparkle mischievously.

"Mae pennen," Aragorn said, gazing at the two Elves and the half-Eldar in his presence. She nodded at him and he noticed the familiar sparkle in her eyes and with that came a single thought: _there was no way they could lose_.

It was then he noticed a strange expression on Buffy's face. "Excuse me," she said quickly, pushing past Prince Imrahil as she disappeared out of the tent. Once in the bright sunlight, she heard the voice calling to her.

_During my time of need you came to me, when an assault upon our home came to pass_, she mentally voiced, her tone accusing. _I can feel the pain of those that have fallen._

_It matters not,_ his voice returned. _Your strength was with us, with me, to the very end. This is why I came to you. Your light and your grace fought two battles._

_No wonder I was so tired,_ Buffy thought sardonically. _If you die, I'll come back and kill you myself._

_I must make certain I shall not fall. Gerich faer vara._

_I know I do,_ Buffy smirked. _I wonder where I got that from. Now, please listen to me. I can feel more darkness coming, and I don't want you to get hurt. We have the rest of our lives ahead of us, and I plan on surviving what's to come._

_I know what will come and what will pass will come to be. We have no more a hand in fate than we do in deciding the outcome of war. I feared you had fallen this past night._

_I didn't,_ she said softly. _I'm still here. And I'll be here… until the end. Im naer, but I will find you again. Someday soon… I will see you again…_

Her thoughts drifted away as a hand lay on her shoulder.

"What is it?" Elrohir asked, as both he and Elladan led her away from the tents. "You have fear in your eyes and your heart feels cold…"

"Lórien was attacked," Buffy replied. "From what I can tell… it's all right."

"There is a deep bond within you," Elladan said. "I can feel your conflict."

"It's really nothing," she said, shaking her head hastily.

"But there exists conflict," Elrohir pointed out.

"There is always conflict," Buffy protested. "My home has been attacked and I'm sitting here fighting a war in the world of men when my people, my own _people_, who have ignored the world for so long, are getting attacked. It's… it's… not normal."

"She fears for—"

"If you say his name, I will knife you," she said, smiling slyly at Elrohir's innocent expression. "Yes, I fear for his safety. It's not every day when a couple goes off to two separate battles in the same war."

"That is true," Elrohir agreed. "It does not mean that you do not fear this."

"No," Buffy whispered. "It means that I have to fight the fear more."

_With the angel's tears alight_

_And all hopes fade to black_

_When your heart starts to return_

_And with it all the fear comes_

_In the thunder's call_

_The angels are falling_

_Returning to heaven's doors_

_A peaceful visionary_

_Spoken like a hero sought_

_Of distant lands and wars_

_A shield shattered with cold tears_

_And death became their kin_

_And thus the world broke in two_

_One half of love and hate_

_The other remained cold and broken_

_And remains so to this day_

Two days later, Buffy stood before a large force of Gondorian forces, Elladan and Elrohir by her side. She was now dressed completely in Elvish armor and a cloak, having discarded her ruined Ranger gear. Most of it was buried in the cold ground with Halbarad.

Many looked at the young woman as she appeared, wearing a cloak of midnight-blue, clasped at the throat with a silver star. Her hair was worn long, braided from her face. And a small silver crown adorned her brow, giving her a small bit of authority, considering she and the two sons of Elrond had been given their own charge of the Rangers that followed behind them, and their brother Rangers from Ithilien behind them.

It had been a difficult goodbye that morning to Éowyn. She was restless, lying on her cot staring at the ceiling for hours on end which she claimed was dull. Buffy could, too, feel her pain, considering Elladan had pushed her back to the cot to sleep after the debate that past morning, convinced she hadn't slept much at all when she had gone into what she was considering a state of total Elvish shutdown.

The road was perilous, as many enemies existed between the Black Gate of Mordor and the safe Ithilien.

Buffy used that time to think about what had happened the previous day. During her tours of the Houses of Healing, she had come upon the Steward. Considering how young he was, she didn't know whether or not he could be Boromir's father, until she heard that Denethor had died during the battle. This had to be the younger brother.

So Buffy had finally met Faramir and had spent a few precious hours talking with the brother Boromir had spoken so lovingly about.

"Yes, he spoke of the child who wouldn't get on with his studies but would rather have been off playing with his friends," Buffy said, smirking at Faramir's pale blush as he stared out over the gardens. "He had many stories to tell, but there wasn't enough time for all to be told." A sad look crossed her face. "Now I'll never know."

"He was always the bold one, the one fortune favored," Faramir said in his gentle voice, his sea-grey eyes cast outwards.

"He wasn't the only one," Buffy said, reaching for his arm, but pulling back at the last moment. "Your brother loved you deeply, Faramir. I felt so much of that love when I spoke with him. It makes me wish I had a brother."

"You have brothers in war," Faramir said, telling her what little he knew of her. "My father knew your name years ago. The Rangers of Ithilien even knew your calling, but few actually came to you. I reckon that was your time spent with the Elves."

"It's where I intend to go when this godforsaken war is over," Buffy said, joining his side and staring out at the city below them. "I love this city, but my heart belongs back there."

They parted then and Buffy promised to check up on him if she ever came back to Minas Tirith.

She smiled fondly at that memory, one of the few in the past days that brought any light to her eyes. There was a chill of darkness pressing in on her Silvan paradise, this much she knew. She just wished she could be in two places at once without nearly dying again. But, for now, she was to remain with Aragorn. Such was her decision in the beginning and thus it would remain now.

There were thousands of men now moving at the slowest pace towards the north and east. It was very slow going as the road was considerably dangerous, and Buffy stayed at her end of the line with her two Elvish friends. She kept her eyes on the road in front of her, the horse moving easily beneath her, but inside, her heart was troubled.

She knew she was moving towards home. It was somewhere to the north, probably a few hundred miles away. Although it had only been a few days since they'd left Minas Tirith, she could feel the burning sensation that the home she'd come to know and love was in flames.

She was internally fighting that same battle she knew the Lady Galadriel and the others were. She could see them all so very clearly in her mind, a product of the bond she had with her beloved Marchwarden.

She knew she was distancing herself from what could be the last move she would ever make in this world, but she had a war to fight. It was only when they camped at night, their final night before the march on the Black Gate itself, did they realize something was different. She sat at the fire, staring into the flames, her green eyes far away. She hadn't spoken a word to anyone in hours, something the soldiers noticed. Those few who knew of this connection, which seemed to be Elladan and Elrohir, kept pushing the others away.

In her mind, she saw hundreds of archers and skilled swordsmen beating back the third assault of the Ringwraiths from Dol Guldur, sent by the order of Sauron himself. She could see the fact that there were dead Elves, many of them with wide, expressionless faces that haunted her own heart as she bent down to touch the cold face below her bow.

With a loud cry, the battle raged on. It felt like she were moving through slow motion, watching as Elf after Elf was cut down, falling at times from cliff-tops down steep hills at least thirty feet. No one understood death, she realized, except her. Even in their sturdy Elvish armor and Galadriel taking up her own arms, the ring glowing valiantly on her finger, Buffy knew it would take more than just the power of a ring corrupted by its master to win this single battle.

In the distance, she could hear voices.

"It was wrong to take her with us," Elladan was saying, as he stood away from the Slayer, staring transfixed into the flames, tears shining in her eyes. "She belongs with her people!"

"She is with her people," Aragorn replied, glancing down at the Slayer. He could sense that she wasn't completely there. "Perhaps you did not notice, but she is a woman, and not a she-Elf."

"Say that to her face," Elrohir challenged him, his face taunt in the shadows. "She is bonded with our kind, Estel. She is no ordinary woman. Still she fights…"

Aragorn glanced at her again. "The bond…" he echoed softly.

"The bond goes far deeper than the heart's desire," Elladan said mildly. "Her strength is waning, Aragorn. She no longer fights in one battle, but with two."

For the first time, he could see the exhaustion lining her face and swore he saw, for the first time in a great, long while, a sign of weakness. She was finally beginning to despair.

Hundreds of miles away, she watched as one of her own guard was cut down and as he fell, she went to catch him before he tumbled into the stained river, red with the blood of so many fallen Elves. In her arms, he was safe. She closed his eyes with a whispered Elvish prayer before rising to fight again.

It was then that a great white light shone from behind her. Turning, all of the guard of Lórien saw Galadriel's power exerted and, at once, it drove the Orcs back.

But they wouldn't be denied what had been so rightfully there. They had a chance to remove the Silvan Elves from this land, once and for all, along with their Noldorin Queen.

The power of her ring surpassed that of their own powers, and they found themselves falling back as the guard, with renewed strength, fought onwards.

Suddenly, without warning, the trance was broken as her strength gave out. She started a bit, before breaking down completely in tears. It was the first time that anyone had ever seen her cry. It was with great bouts of despair they saw her face, tired and lined, full of both hope and fear.

They didn't know quite what to do except let her be, as she buried her head in her knees, rocking back and forth slightly.

Elrohir, who remained next to her, gently placed his hand on her shoulder and murmured soft words of comfort as she sobbed. Then, without so much as a warning, her body gave way and Elrohir had to catch her before she fell from her perch, passing out from sheer exhaustion, her mind defeated by two great evils that sought to destroy her. The Elf gently set her upon the ground and wrapped a blanket over her small figure before turning to his twin and his foster brother.

"She must rest. She has no strength left to fight," Elrohir said, his tone grave.

"We do not have the time to allow her to rest," Aragorn said quietly. "We must continue on." Her condition wasn't concerning him, as he knew she would recover rather easily from it. The extent to where she had been though, and the things she had seen, those were gravest in his mind. He wished he could see what she had and knew it had been terrible for in the nearly twenty years he'd known her, he'd never seen her break down and cry.

In her mind, she was walking through a field of blood-red flowers, with droplets of red raining from the sky. All around her were ponds and in these ponds were the bodies of the dead.

"Until the blood stops flowing, it will never stop," she whispered, stopping to stare at one vast pool, at the Elves that lay beneath it. "This has to end."

There was a soft moaning sound coming from beneath the pools. She stared at it, her eyes seeking a familiar face, endless azure eyes staring up past the water. She choked back a sigh as she stepped away, only to turn as a great shrieking figure stood before her.

"This will be _your _end, Slayer!"

Buffy opened her eyes and cried out. Immediately, the voices around her ceased as many heads turned in the direction of this disturbance. Elladan rushed forward and stepped into her line of sight. When her eyes lit with recognition, her muffled cry became choked as she pulled the blanket up to her lips. "Oh," she said, breathing hard as she ran a hand through her hair.

"Nothing to see, lads, move along!" the Dwarf said, waving his axe threateningly as he and Legolas made their way over to the Slayer, sitting on the ground, newly awakened from a nightmare. The King of Rohan and the Prince of Dol Amroth stole forward to see what had caused this commotion and saw a young woman sitting on the perch, her head between her legs as one of the Elves stood beside her, his hand on top of her head, murmuring words of comfort.

"Andelu i ven," Elrohir said quietly.

"I know," she said, her voice muffled from below them. "There's no safe road anywhere in Arda right about now."

"Man le trasta?" he asked, bending down. He could feel that this was beyond a simple battle in the great wood. It was deeper than this, perhaps deeper than the bond she and her Silvan lover shared.

"It's nothing," she said, shaking her head. "Really." She forced a smile, lying through her teeth and knew they knew she was lying. But they didn't have time to discuss her vision, if she could call it that. No, it was the time to fight something and kill it painfully dead before she completely lost control. "When are we going?"

"As soon as we are all ready," Aragorn said from above her. She slowly moved her gaze to his and gave him a thin smile.

"Thanks, old man," she said, forcing a chuckle, which sounded more like a half-evil cackle. "Let's go."

The rest of the journey was spent in silence. She could hear an underlying voice in her mind, and it wasn't the voice of the one she loved. It was darker, deeper and evil. And it was growing stronger.

The force came to the Black Gates. Buffy rode ahead with the two sons of Elrond, her eyes on the gates in front of her. Already Aragorn was making the motions to move forward. It was time to spring their trap.

They had a White Wizard, an heir to the throne of Gondor, a Slayer, Elves and even a few thousand courageous men to back them up. Facing thousands of Orc and Eru knew what else on the other side, Buffy didn't really worry, but she wasn't exactly prancing forward with joy, either. They had a fight ahead of them, but she was ready for it.

She had to be ready for it. She was the Slayer. This was her chosen existence. It may have been tamed through her years surrounded by others who could fight, though not nearly as well as she could.

Aragorn rode through the Morannon, and with him went his greatest support. Buffy remained behind with the twin sons of Elrond, watching as the King of Rohan and the Prince of Dol Amroth rode forward, along with Legolas, Gilmi and the White Wizard. It was only when Elrohir said, "Aphado nin."

And Buffy had no choice but to follow them. Heralds rode as well, their trumpets in the air.

Aragorn greeted his foster brothers with a swift nod, his eyes appraising the Slayer on her steed, proud and strong. Turning back, he called out, "Let the lord of the Black Land come forth! Let justice be done upon him!"

After what seemed like a short eternity, the Gate opened and a single rider came forth. Buffy felt a cold chill race down her spine as she saw the black banner he wielded. Her mare began moving restlessly and she quickly pushed it a step back to ease her discomfort.

"I am the Mouth of Sauron," the figure said, and from what Buffy could tell, it resembled more of a demon than a man. She recalled the old tales of the Black men, wicked men from the island in the sea, cast out as sworn blood enemies of Númenor. "Is there anyone in this rout with the authority to treat with me?"

Gandalf was the one that spoke. The Mouth of Sauron ridiculed him before spitting, "I have tokens I was bidden to show thee."

And from his cloak he withdrew the Mithril shirt entrusted to Frodo. At once, Pippin cried out and Gandalf turned to him as the Mouth of Sauron beamed. "Silence!"

Buffy drew in a sharp breath as she reached back for her axe, the handle gripped tightly in her pale hand.

"Did you not love the little one? Was he precious to you? He suffered greatly at the hands of Sauron. One could never expect such an imp to endure such pain. For was he dear to you as others you would send to their doom?"

Gandalf seemed to be beside himself with words. Tears were lining his ancient eyes and he looked away. With him was Aragorn, looking stricken. Even Legolas looked stunned. Turning her sharp eyes to the Mouth of Sauron, she opened her mouth just as the creature spoke again.

"Is there no one with the wit to come forward?" The Mouth turned to Aragorn and grinned, blood spluttering from between rotted teeth. "Only a bit of elvish glass could make thee a King, and even then would you remember the death of those befallen you?"

"You know," Buffy said, riding forward, past Gandalf to stand beside Aragorn, "I've just about had enough of you."

"At last," the Mouth said, grinning the cold, bloody grin at her. "Here is one with sufficient strength but outnumbered by the vast, you remain."

"I'm not one for the cryptic," she said coldly, her eyes never leaving his face. "In fact, I'm just the one that fights."

"You have nothing to offer," the Mouth said, the grin sliding off his dead-looking face.

It happened within the blink of an eye. Just as the Mouth cried out, Buffy whipped her axe through the air, the blade slicing through the air before impaling itself in the forehead of the great beast before them.

"Yeah, well who does nowadays?" she muttered, turning her horse to look at Aragorn. He was staring at her as though he'd been roused through a dream. "Frodo isn't dead," she told him quietly. "I know it and so should you."

They had barely the time to react before the gates opened fully and Sauron's army came flooding through.

"Fall back!" Aragorn ordered, and all with him did so, as the army coming out was now circling around their smaller force on the hills.

Buffy came about and dismounted gracefully, pulling her sword with her before sending her horse to the back of the line. In a closed-circuit battle with the evilest baddies imaginable, it seemed a very foolish idea to keep her poor horse around. It had already been abandoned once after the stroll through the Paths of the Dead.

Aragorn charged ahead of them, Andúril flashing in the sunlight. His speech was one of great motivation, Buffy realized, regarding him through narrowed eyes. He was going to make a fantastic King if he could rouse up the men like this.

"By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, men of the west!"

His horse reared then as he turned, the men behind them pulling out their swords and smashing their fists against their shields. Before them, the enemy began to swell, moving ever so slowly forward.

Buffy held her own ground, realizing that if she were to die on this day, she couldn't ask to do it for a better group of men. Here they were trying to regain their freedom from Sauron, the evil lieutenant and oppressor of Melkor. She held her sword in both hands, gently touching the tip to her forehead. Next to her, Elladan and Elrohir pulled out their own Elvish blades, as Gimli lifted his axe, his own face impassive as the enemy continued to move.

And then she heard it. Before her, behind the gates, was a voice. It was calling "Elessar" but in her mind, it was whispering "Dagnir".

"No," she muttered forcefully, her hands tightening on the handle of her sword.

Aragorn took one step out, Andúril lifting as he turned his head, his eyes determined. "For Frodo," he whispered.

And then all hell broke lose.

From all sides, the smaller army of Men rushed against the Orcs. Buffy found herself easily beating those behind her as she attacked the first pike, kicking it aside before beheading her first Orc. After that, everything she did was by hand. She kicked out at one Orc before turning and kicking backwards to knock a blade from another. Using the force from that impact, she flipped forward and brought both feet against the skull of a third. Next to her, she saw Rohirrim and Gondorians alike fighting. Lifting her sword from the ground again, she drove it through the armor of one Orc before kicking him aside and moving immediately towards another.

As she started fighting off these newer Orcs, a loud, piercing cry struck the sky. Glancing up, she saw the winged creatures approaching. "Oh," she said, as though of surprise. In this moment of silence, a sword came out of nowhere and drove into her shoulder.

She didn't cry out at first until a sharp pain assailed her already beaten body. She turned around and knocked away the assailant and quickly drove her own sword through him, but not before the poison from the sword spilled into her blood. "Oh, crap," she moaned, stumbling forward.

A dead hand reached out and grasped her throat and through blurry eyes she saw the cold, smiling face of a troll-like Orc about to take down the one creature unattainable in Middle-earth.

Her body was weakening with the strain of the poison, she thought as she felt consciousness slip away.

And then a shield swung from nowhere and Buffy felt her body drop to the ground as cold oxygen entered her lungs, something she didn't realize she was without until it was nearly too late. Lifting up her dazed eyes, she saw a figure fighting above her. She attempted to struggle to her feet but fell to the side just as the Eagles came soaring down above them.

She closed her eyes, intending to use all of her powers to dispel the poison, but the wound was deep and she was bleeding freely. She felt something heavy collapse on her legs as the carcasses piled around her. She felt cold, suddenly, as though the wind of her fortune had shifted.

"Don't abandon me," she whispered. "Don't let me give into hope and fear…"

Hundreds of miles away, her beloved Marchwarden could feel her despair.

_Tolo__ don nan galad. _

_I'm trying,_ her mind pleaded, all of her strength gone. _I'm so sick of fighting…_

_I shall give you what you seek, but you must take all you can bear._

_I'm dying, you idiot._

It was, in part, the truth. She heard the cries of those she'd fought besides dying as their bodies collapsed on the ground around her. She heard the wicked voice in her head, speaking of her own death. She heard her own resolve crumbling and with it, her body began to break away.

_I have not loved you for this long to allow you passage to the Halls of Mandros. Your time has not yet come._

_It's a little late to say there's still hope,_ she countered bitterly. But even as her thoughts became darker, her breathing eased and sweet oxygen flowed into her lungs as the poison was drawn away, sweeping blue clouds extracting the toxin with every exhale.

_You have always found the way._

For the first time, a muscle in her jaw flickered as her eyes slowly opened, facing a spiked club near her head. She felt her body fight back and soon her hand reached out and grasped the troll's deadly weapon as she snapped to her feet, her body fluidic in motion as she turned, swinging the club eagerly.

And then, as an afterthought, she cast it aside.

She ran into the attack with her bare hands, her strength and her speed leaving nothing but bodies and corpses in her wake as she cut a wide swath through the Orcs. As she did, a loud cry rose from behind her and she turned, the wind catching her blonde hair, blowing it from her face as she stared at the Tower before her.

The Ringwraiths above her head gave a great cry before doubling back and returning into Mordor.

It could only mean one thing: Sauron had taken back at last what had once been his.

She turned back, ducking a thick fist aimed for her head and rising back up, swinging with both arms, easily knocking the Orc a good ten feet off course before turning and punching another into a wide circle of the filthy black creatures. In the corner of her eye, she saw Aragorn on the ground, trapped beneath a troll. When all sense of reality came to her, she saw Legolas, trapped behind the enemy in a valiant attempt to get to his dearest friend.

Buffy owed Aragorn a great many things. To save his life would repay all but one of them.

She raced forward, but found herself held back as the Easterlings attacked her. She ducked one axe before taking a second from the hands of its wielder, shoving the blunt end into his throat before using the sharp end to impale the neck of the first. Spinning around, she saw that Aragorn was in dire need and came forward. An Orc blocked her path, but she neatly clove his head before finally reaching the troll and doing the one thing she could do; tackle him.

The two went spinning away as Aragorn could finally breathe. As the troll smacked her across the head with one fisted hand, she turned back, fire flashing in her eyes. The axe abandoned on the ground, she began to hit him with all of the angst, anxiety and fervor she could muster, leaving the body in a bloody heap that she was perched upon before gentle hands pulled her away.

There was another great cry as both she and her captor glanced up. The great Eye of Sauron had just turned a magnificent shade of silver as the Tower of Barad-dúr began to collapse at last.

The enemy that had still been fighting them froze as though their Master's voice had just been silenced and turned, as one, to watch their tower fall. The fight abandoned, many fled, heading towards the Black Gates while those behind dashed away.

Buffy stood on hollowed legs, watching as the light of the Eye died away and with it came a great explosion from Orodruin.

They finally had the victory, she thought to herself, a tear rolling down her cheek. Yet it had come with a terrible price.

The Black Gates started to tremble before falling into the earth. A great chasm opened up, swallowing the forces of darkness as they fled, sparing all of those that remained in the great alliance.

Buffy fell to her knees, overcome with emotions. In the past few weeks, she'd been fighting this great war she'd known almost nothing about. Now that the battle was finally over, it felt as though the weight of the world was off of her shoulders.

Spying Aragorn on his knees, staring at the ground while his trembling hand touched it brought even more emotions forth. She stole forward and wrapped her former mentor in a crushing embrace, feeling his body react oddly to her warm touch. And yet he held her back, feeling the humanity burning within her, as though the Elves hadn't been able to take it away.

"Nad dithen," she said, laughing slightly as a great whoop of joy came from her body. As the others began to celebrate, still more drove the enemies further away as she stepped back from Aragorn and, at long last, gave her respectful bow to the new King.

Gandalf came to Gwaihir of the Eagles and left with them on a secret mission. As he did, Aragorn pulled the remains of his army together and they marched back to the fields of Cormallen.

In the passing days, Buffy was gently seen to by Elladan, who proclaimed that her arm had to be removed to stop the flow of poison. Elrohir just happened to pass by her tent and said that they had to more than likely remove her vocal cords as well since they could suffer a lasting side effect from the loss of an arm. It was only her promise that they would both lose their legs if they dared try anything did all three realize that the spirit of their fond playfulness had returned at last.

Aragorn came to see her the following morning and found a young woman dressed in Elvish clothes and once again wearing a crown of silver upon her brow. "Hannon le," he said softly.

She glanced up at him and smiled, bowing her head slightly. "Buion na 'ell," she replied.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked, closing the flap behind him.

She nodded, stretching out her bare arm. "It's all healed, or it's close enough to it."

He held out his hand and she took it, grasping it firmly. Before she left, her eyes fell on her Elven cloak and she pulled it on over her simple sleeveless gown and did up the threads before taking her King's hand as he led her outside.

The fields of Cormallen were a beautiful place to dwell, she decided as she walked with him. As soon as they reached the edge of the clearing, he released her arm and bowed to her. Turning, she walked into a great push of bodies, many regarding her with polite interest or, in some cases, awe. Many never realized how truly radiant the light of the Eldar burned in her soul, and as she smiled they found themselves relieved, for they found her to be a true spirit of the land, loyal to whatever end.

She walked up to Legolas and bowed to him, for he wore the colors of the King of Mirkwood. It was then that tidings were brought. Galadriel was taking the forces of Lórien across the Anduin to cast down the walls of Dol Guldur. Seeing an opportunity to fight with her own people, she would have gladly gone had it not been for the word that Frodo had finally regained consciousness.

She waited with the rest of the grand party as Gandalf came before the group, leading two tiny figures in their best armor and swords. Aragorn, perched on his throne, stole forward past his Elvish delegation and knelt down before the two Ringbearers, his smile apparent. And then, lifting them to his throne, he bellowed, "Praise them with great praise!"

A loud cheer rose up from the hundreds in the fields. Buffy let out a cheer of her own as she saw the ecstatic joy in many faces as she came forward to stand next to the King.

Dinner that night was a cheerful affair, she realized as she sat on the outside, watching as two Hobbits came forward in battle gear, serving the other two. She smiled softly as she saw the camaraderie between them, and felt her heart lighten. She reached for her mug of mulled mead, something one of the Rohirrim had given her with a feisty wink. After taking three drinks of it, she realized she had to lay off or they would have a drunk Slayer on their hands. Luckily there were more women about, but nonetheless, she was still one of the prettiest many had laid their eyes on, and dressed in next to nothing with her Elvish gown, she knew she presented a tempting target.

For some odd reason, Elladan and Elrohir were respecting her space instead of crowding her and protecting her from her own people. They had finally come to learn that despite the fact that she dwelt among the Silvan Elves, she was still a woman. They couldn't protect her from a world she knew so much about. For this, she was grateful.

She traced her finger along the rim of her mug, watching as the two Hobbits danced. Many stood to watch and she felt her own legs moving her into the front row, cradling her mug and smirking.

Aragorn was there in his armor, smiling. On his right side was Legolas, ever present with his fair eyes glancing bemusedly at the two Hobbits. The Dwarf was sitting at the table the Hobbits were dancing upon, a larger mug in his hand as he cackled, poking at their feet. On Aragorn's right side was the new King of Rohan and the Prince Imrahil, both tall, stoic and proud as they watched the Hobbits with something like fascination. Gandalf stood on the opposite end, clapping in time to the music.

And Buffy could only smile as she hoisted her cup to the two Hobbits sitting at the opposite end, their eyes filled with wonder at the thought of all the stories that remained to be told and the adventures left to behold.

The rest of the world was widely open to them now that the evil had been driven back.

She smiled a fierce, proud smile as applause erupted around them. The two Hobbits both gave half-drunken bows before they hopped from the table. One by one, the Fellowship disappeared into the night. Sitting down again with her mug in front of her, she stared at the people around her.

To know of such a victory was to bring even more lightness to her heart. Even at the end of all things, they had no need for a vampire Slayer. In her two decades in this new land, she had been transformed, and thus it should be to the end of her day.

Her smile widened. Oh, the things she was going to do.

- - - - -

the end.


End file.
